


Chuck vs the Charade

by Somedeepmystery



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mystery, Romance, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-19 15:02:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 65,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somedeepmystery/pseuds/Somedeepmystery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When computer nerd Chuck Bartowski returns home to an empty apartment and a dead girlfriend he finds himself embroiled in a deadly game of espionage and deceit. Everyone around him is playing a part to get what they want and when he starts falling for the new woman in his life, he can't help but wonder if he can trust her or if she's the one he should fear the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my crazy mash up of Chuck and Charade. If you haven’t seen Charade then go watch it immediately! If you haven’t seen Chuck, then I’m not quite sure why you’re here but go watch that too!
> 
> I want to say a huge thank you to Angus MacNab and Indigogold/chuckaholic for being pre-readers. Indigo came through when I was feeling pretty alone in the world and Angus has been nothing less than a life saver. Thank you guys!
> 
> This story was inspired by the 1963 film Charade.

 

 

 

Snow was everywhere. It covered the rocky mountainsides and clung, heavily, to the boughs of the countless evergreen trees, making them droop gracefully. The small village spread out below the resort was equally adorned. Everywhere he looked, everything was covered in a never ending blanket of white that sparkled in the mid-afternoon sun.

Having lived all of his life in Burbank, California, Chuck Bartowski didn't often see snow, and this was his first time seeing so much of it in all at once. He let his eyes sweep over the landscape, streaked with ski runs and dotted with tiny, colorful specks of the people who had come to romp in the winter playground. He took a deep breath as he relaxed into his chair. The air was so clean and crisp it was almost painful and he chuckled to himself at the idea of his lungs going through smog withdrawal. A waitress arrived with his hot chocolate and Chuck smiled up at her as she set it in front of him. He was glad he'd let his sister Ellie talk him into coming along. Sure, skiing wasn't exactly his thing, and so far he'd managed to avoid any semblance of the sport, but the change of pace and scenery was nice, even if he had to enjoy it alone.

That last thought brought a frown to his usually jovial face, along with the bout of melancholy he'd been trying to dodge for weeks. Reluctantly, he let his mind wander to his girlfriend Jill. She had bailed on the trip at the last minute, and it was just one of many things that had him examining their relationship. The two of them had been together for seven years and living together for five but, recently, he had begun to wonder if it had ever been anything more than a figment of his imagination.

"Chuck!" Ellie Bartowski's voice was a relief to hear, pulling him from the thoughts that had been circling his mind for months now, haunting him with questions that seemed to have no answers. He looked up and smiled. There was nothing like the sight of a happy Ellie to brighten his day, and she wasn't just happy, she was vibrant. Her cheeks were pink with cold and her eyes sparkled with laughter. "There, you are," she said, pulling off her gloves and plopping down in the chair beside him. Her hands snaked out and wrapped around the mug in front of him, pulling it close and taking a sip despite his inarticulate protest. "We've been looking all over for you."

"Yeah, bro, why aren't you out there on the slopes? The powder is awesome!" Chuck flicked his gaze up to his sister's longtime boyfriend, Devon "Captain Awesome" Woodcomb, and then focused on stealing back his beverage. Once he had it in front of him again, and Ellie was giving him a playful pout, he turned and gave Awesome his attention. Athletic and extremely handsome, Devon looked like he'd stepped out of the tourist catalog for the resort.

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" Chuck said, smirking over the rim of his mug, "watching me attempt to speed down a steep hill with two sticks strapped to my feet. Have you ever seen me, Devon? Sometimes I have trouble walking."

"Oh, please, little brother," Ellie laughed, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. "You're not that bad."  He gave her a look. "Well… You could always try the bunny hill," she amended with a look she had used to taunt him for as long as he could remember.

"Ha ha,"  he replied. An image came to mind, of all six foot for inches of him struggling to stay upright while tiny children skied circles around him.

Devon leaned down and gave Ellie a kiss on the cheek. "Hey babe, I'm gotta make use of the little _man's_ room. You want me to bring ya anything?"

"Mm, a hot chocolate would be nice," she replied with a quick, side eyed glance at her brother. Devon affirmed and headed off into the resort, disappearing from view. "Okay, what's going on?" Chuck, startled at the sudden shift to her serious voice and turned to find her hazel-green eyes boring into him knowingly. God, how did she do that?

"I —" he started to deny and then sighed. "I don't know, Ellie, I — I wish I knew, it's just…"

"Something's going on with you and Jill?" After a pause he nodded. "Tell me."

After a moment of opening and closing his mouth like a fish, Chuck managed to organize his thoughts enough to form a sentence. "She's hiding something from me, Ellie, something big. Something… _bad_."

"Chuck, how bad can it be, you two have been together for years?"

"And I think it's been there the whole time, I just didn't want to see it." He toyed with his cup. "Sometimes she gets these phone calls and she'll look over at me with this… _look_. Or — or she'll go on a business trip and she'll bring me back something that… doesn't fit, or she doesn't even remember seeing things that she would've seen. I mean, who doesn't at least look at the Eiffel Tower when you have to walk right past it? And the people from her work sometimes… Ellie, I know it sounds a crazy, but I — I just don't think Jill is the person I thought she was."

His sister opened her mouth to protest but after taking a long look at his face seemed to think better of it. "Are you going to break up with her?"

Chuck stared down at the few marshmallows still floating in his hot chocolate. He wasn't the kind of guy to be frivolous with relationships, but the truth was, he'd stayed in this one far too long. And he realized he couldn't even say it was because he loved her. He didn't love her. He hadn't for a long time. After what seemed like far too long, he nodded in answer to his sister's question, not making eye contact.

He felt her hand on his shoulder and finally looked up. "Hey," she said, giving him a reassuring smile. "It's alright, Chuck, I know you didn't come to this decision lightly." She twisted her mouth to the side and then admitted, "I never really felt Jill was right for you anyway. She… I'm not sure how to explain it really. She just didn't "light you up." You know, the way Devon does for me."

Chuck sighed and gave her a half smile. He hadn't realized how much Ellie's acceptance on this would mean to him. It was like a weight had been lifted from his chest. "God, El, I should've come and talked to you about this months ago."

"Yes," she said smartly, "You should have." He laughed and leaned in to give her a hug.

When Devon returned, they talked over hot chocolate and cookies for a while, until Captain Awesome began making less than subtle hints about the hot tub in his and Ellie's hotel room. Chuck made a few very loud throat clearing sounds, noticed he was drawing attention from people around them and stopped. Ellie gave him an apologetic smile and slipped off with her perfect boyfriend, leaving Chuck alone again with the spectacular view and his less than happy thoughts.

xXx

 

On their last day, Ellie finally convinced Chuck to put on a pair of skis. He had agreed because, though he had relished the time to think when he first arrived, excessive thinking was starting to really get to him. So he'd donned the gear, took a couple of pointer lessons and started out on a nice, easy hill. He'd had fun too – right up to the point where he'd lost control and run into a tree. After a few moments of tumbling, catawampus, through the snow, he'd been able to get back on his feet and he was walking it of when Ellie reached him. She affirmed the idea that he should just go back to the resort. He was pretty sure his pained grimace was not seen for the smile of relief it really was.

Unfortunately, that left him right back with the excessive thinking.

He tried calling a Jill again and got her voice mail, _again_. Since he wasn't able to reach her and start resolving the situation, and since dwelling on it was fruitless and only led to worry and frustration, Chuck decided to settle into a circumstance he found a little more familiar. Stopping off at his hotel room to grab his laptop first, he headed into the village and a local coffee shop they had passed on the way in to town – the one offering free Wi-Fi with purchase of beverage.

He ordered the biggest mocha they offered and shuffled his still sore body over to a sofa in the corner. The sight of his laptop booting up was like the sight of a sorely missed friend and he grinned, setting his drink on the table next to him so he could check his email. His gaze had hardly swept over his very full inbox, locking almost immediately on the first one – What the hell? _Bryce_ had sent him an email? What could he possibly want? – when a voice interrupted him.

"Is this seat taken?"

Chuck looked over to find a pair of very shapely legs, clad in black ski leggings and tucked into fur topped boots. His eyes trailed up over the stylish ski jacket to a pair of the most beautiful blue eyes he'd ever seen, set perfectly into the most beautiful _face_ he'd ever seen. Tall and slender, her blonde hair fell to her shoulders in perfect waves. His eyes widened for a moment, struck by the sight of her, before he managed a response. "Um, no-no, go ahead."  He managed a smile and hoped it didn't look as lame as he felt.

"Thanks." He watched as she plopped into the lush leather armchair next to him, laying her head back with a sigh, before he remembered it was rude to stare and returned to his computer. His eyes were uncooperative however, as they continued to turn to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of her.

He opened the second email, the one below Bryce's since he didn't want to deal with that yet, and scanned it twice before he was able to focus enough to make out any of the words.

_— Dude, what's going on? I went by your store today and it was all closed up. Anyway, man, I know you're out there enjoying the fresh air and whatever but you need to check your email. I really need your input on my new strategy. Help me Chuck Bartowski, you're my only hope!_

Morgan Grimes, his best friend since second grade, didn't feel he needed to attach a farewell to his correspondence. Chuck smiled affectionately and then frowned. The office was closed? When was this sent? He wouldn't put it past Morgan to go by on Sunday, forgetting the office was always closed on Sunday, but maybe Jill had needed to close it up for some reason?

"Damn it!" The sharp expletive coming from the woman next to him, pulled him back to the here and now. He looked over to see her smacking her phone against her palm in frustration. "Oh, this is ridiculous!"

"Um, hey now," Chuck started, unable to stand the sight of tech abuse or a damsel in distress, "Whatever the problem is, hitting is never the answer."

She looked over at him in surprise and then smirked before a soft, musical laugh fell from her lips. "I'm sorry. It's this phone, it just stops working for no reason!"

Chuck held out his hand. "Maybe I can help, let me take a look." She looked from his face to his hand and back again before handing over the small flip phone. Chuck smiled as he looked it over. "Ah, the Intellicell." He shifted in his seat and pulled his keys from his pocket. Sorting through the mass, he came up with a small screwdriver that was about three inches long with an ergonomic, rubber handle. Popping open the battery compartment, he used it to tighten a small screw in the back of the phone. "This little guy back here has a tendency to come loose." He pressed the power button until the little jingle from her service provider played through the speaker then handed it to her. "There you go, all fixed."

"Wow," she said looking it over. "You must really be a nerd if you carry around a little phone fixing screwdriver on your key-chain."

Chuck smiled widely. "Nerd and proud.  Also, don't insult Winona, she's sensitive."

"Winona? You named your screwdriver?" He shrugged and gave her a guilty-as-charged grin. "Not after Winona _Ryder_ I hope."

"Yes and no. It's from Far — you know what? Just chalk it up to an obscurely nerdy TV reference you're probably not going to get," he said, tapping his temple, "My head is full of them."

"Hmm," she said, twisting her mouth to the side in what was probably the most adorable face he'd ever seen on another human being. His heart did something resembling a somersault inside his chest and for a moment he lost the ability to breathe properly. "I'm afraid I don't watch very much TV."

"That's okay, I watch too much," he heard himself say and wondered briefly how he'd managed to talk without air.

She laughed and he knew his smile was ridiculously wide, but he couldn't do a thing to reign it in. "Well, anyway, thank you for fixing my phone, I don't know how to live without this thing." She gave him a grateful smile and all he could do was stare at her. "I really appreciate it…"

It took him much too long to realize she was fishing for his name. He yanked himself back to reality and took her hand in his. There was a definitely spark of heat when their skin made contact and he tried not to let it distract him anymore than he already was. "Chuck! I'm…" he laughed at his own absurdity and shook his head. "Sorry, Chuck Bartowski, professional nerd, at your service."

She laughed again and squeezed his hand. "Katie, Katie O'Connell." Her smile was incredible, sweet and sexy at the same time, her slightly uneven front teeth only adding to its charm.

"They call you Katie? Not Kate, or Katherine? Oh! Kat maybe." Oh god, he was rambling.

She made a face. "They call my _Ms._ O'Connell," she replied, and though her voice was completely serious there was a sparkle of humor in her eyes.

"Ah, I see. So, is there a _Mr_. O'Connell?"

Her smirk was adorable. "Not unless you count my father, no. How about you, Chuck? Is there a _Mrs._ Bartowski?"

The question was like a bucket of ice water being thrown in his face. He hadn't thought of Jill even once since they'd started talking. "No. There's no Mrs. Bartowski," he said, leaning away from her as guilt washed through him. Sure, he'd made his decision about Jill but she didn't know that and it was hardly fair for him to be flirting away when she was back home expecting him to be faithful… was it? "I have a girlfriend, but… we're breaking up." He realized that sounded too convenient, and his eyes widened. "I mean… that's why I came out here really. Because I needed to think."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said. He looked up and found himself staring into her sympathetic blue eyes.

"Don't be. I'm the one who's sorry. I… I don't love her." Guilt twisted in his stomach and then Katie put her hand on his and, for a moment, all other sensation was blissfully absent.

"It's better then," she was saying as she gave his hand a squeeze. "That you're ending it now, instead of carrying on in a lie."

All he could do was nod.

"Well, thank you again for fixing my phone, you're a life saver. I'm, um, supposed to meet a friend in a few minutes, but maybe I'll see you around, Chuck," she said, pulling away and standing to her feet.

Years of behavior training by his sister meant he stood up too, setting his laptop on the coffee table as he did so. "I'd really like that," he said, smiling a little. Then his face fell. "Only we're heading back to Burbank tomorrow." Back to Jill, back to a mess he had to fix.

"Burbank, California or Burbank, Washington?" she asked, smiling at him. He tried not to be dazzled, but it was difficult.

"Califor – wait, there's a Burbank, Washington?"

"Not much of it," she returned, laughing softly.

Chuck laughed with her. "California."

"Well, I'll be returning to Santa Monica in a day or two," she said. "You should call me." She started to move away but he called her back.

"Wait, are… are you listed?"

She turned back, "No." She pulled a pen out of her pocket and moved in close, taking his hand and turning it palm up. Her fingers were warm and that hum was still there, like a pulse of low voltage electricity moving through his arm, and he started as she touched him. She pulled him in closer, turning his hand just so and her scent wafted over him, something tangy mixed with the scent of cold and fresh air. He watched her as she wrote a number on the palm of his hand and smiled.

"Feels like high school," he said and she grinned as she wrote her name underneath the number. 'Katie' with a little heart over the i. He took her in as she finished, taking note of little things, like the length of her lashes and the way the light played in her hair. And once more he forgot to feel guilty.

She closed his fingers over her writing and squeezed his fist gently as she smiled at him and said, "Well… see ya, Chuck."

"Yeah. See ya… Katie," he breathed and watched her disappear through the door.

xXx

 

It wasn't until later that night, in his hotel room, that Chuck remembered the email from Bryce.

Taking a deep breath, he opened his laptop and navigated to his email. Bryce's was still at the top of the list and, biting his lip for a moment in hesitation, he double clicked to open it. The screen went black for a moment before white words appeared.

_The terrible troll raises his sword._

"What the…" Chuck frowned as he drew back from the laptop. Why on earth would Bryce send him this? What did it mean? Chuck stepped away from the desk and sat on the end of the bed, his eyes never leaving the screen. Bryce Larkin had been his fraternity brother at Stanford, his roommate, his best friend. Then, late senior year, something changed. Chuck had never understood exactly what happened or why, but Bryce had done some things, said some things about Jill that Chuck hadn't been able to forgive. At one point he'd all but ordered Chuck to break up with her. They hadn't spoken since.

And now Bryce was sending him a chapter from the game they'd created together. What did it mean? Was it an olive branch? Chuck couldn't decide, but as he looked at the screen some of the things that Bryce had told him about Jill back then, that she was a liar and not the woman Chuck thought she was, rang a little differently in his mind. Because now Chuck could see that Bryce had been right. 

Determined, Chuck stood to his feet and approached the keyboard. It probably spoke to how truly pathetic he was that he didn't even have to try and remember the correct response to the game prompt, but he hardly cared. He could only hope that maybe his old friend would have some of the answers he'd been looking for.

_Attack troll with nasty knife._

It was that last thing he remembered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say thank you to everyone who has review, followed etc. It's good to know the hard work has resulted in entertainment. :) Continued thanks to my betas, without you guys this story would not be here.

 

 

 

The pounding wouldn't stop. Chuck rolled over onto his side, wrapping his arms around his head in an attempt to dull the sound, but it didn't help. Instead, it added nuance to his discomfort as he breathed in the scent of musty carpet. He drew back in disgust and squinted at the floor. It took a long time for the bland, beige pile to come into focus, as it seemed to be obscured by a veil of ever changing images his mind couldn't quite latch onto. Chuck shook his head to try and clear his vision, groaning loudly as it caused the throbbing in his brain to kick up a notch.

He propped himself up on his elbows and looked around the room. He was indeed on the floor and sunlight was streaming in through the windows. "What the hell?" He did another sweep as things finally came into focus, his gaze settling on his laptop still open on the desk. There was a tiny trail of smoke rising from the side. As his mind registered the sight of the smoke, it also registered the acrid scent of burned electronics. His eyes widened and he leapt to his feet, ignoring the ache in his head. "No, no, nonono!" He lifted the computer and turned it over, inspecting it for damage. He was about to pull out Winona and start taking it apart to find the problem when the pounding started up again. He swung his head around, wincing at the pain. Now that awareness had dawned, he realized it was coming from the door.

"Chuck!" Ellie's voice reached him through the thick material. It had taken on a frantic quality that Chuck recognized from his youth. He spun around, trying to locate the clock. 11:30! He was supposed to meet them in the lobby an hour ago. "Chuck, if you don't open this door right now, _I swear to God_ …"

Chuck scrambled toward the door, stumbling over a stray shoe he'd discarded the night before. Seizing the door knob, he yanked it open to find his sister – fist raised to continue her assault – standing in the hall, her eyes wide with worry. He gave her an awkward smile. Ellie blinked, starting at him for several moments before she slammed her palms into his chest, shoving him backward into the room.

"What the hell, Chuck!" she demanded. "Why didn't you answer? Devon is searching all over the village for you and I've been knocking… are those the same clothes you were wearing yesterday? Chuck did you get drunk last night? You look like crap." Chuck watched as she went from big sister on the warpath to concerned mother figure in an instant. She reached up and pushed aside his dark, curly hair, laying the back of her hand against his forehead like he was a little kid. "Are you feeling alright?"

He took her gently by the wrist and pulled her hand away, holding it to his chest. "Ellie, I'm sorry. I'm fine, I… I have an insane headache but otherwise I'm fine. I think. I'm sorry I didn't answer. I was asleep… I guess."

Ellie frowned as he let her go. She looked him over. "Well, you scared me half to death." She did a quick scan of his room and scrunched up her nose. "You're not even packed and what is that smell?"

"My laptop. It's – it's fried. I – anyway, I'll be packed up and out of here in a sec. Just, go call off Devon so he doesn't waste any more of his time looking for me."

"Okay, but hurry. You're already late for check out and if we take too much longer I won't be able to talk them out of charging us an extra day."

"If they do, I'll pay for it, I promise," Chuck said as he started grabbing up his things and shoving them into his suitcase.

xXx

Chuck sighed and looked up at the building he called home. It was tall, imposing, slightly Gothic in appearance and, despite living there for the last five years, he had never quite felt like he belonged in it. When Jill and he had first moved in together he had wanted them to find their own place, a place they picked out together. But Jill liked her posh apartment and hadn't wanted to give it up. Now, as he looked up at the darkened windows, he felt a new kind of reluctance. He wasn't going to wait to talk to Jill. Which meant this might be that last time he "came home" to this place.

The taxi driver dropped Chuck's luggage next to him. "You want help taking it in?"

"No, thanks, I got it."

The guy looked him up and down skeptically and Chuck bristled a little. Sure he was on the skinny side but he was hardly an invalid. "You sure?"

"Yeah, I got it," Chuck affirmed, his voice only slightly tinged with annoyance. He handed the guy payment for the ride with a generous tip and, with a shrug and a small salute, the man was back in his car and off to his next pick up. Chuck slung his computer bag over his neck, lifted the other two cases by the handles and headed inside.

When he got off the elevator, Chuck had to set down one of the cases and search his pockets for his keys. With all the noise he was making he was a little surprised Jill didn't beat him to the punch. She always seemed to know when he was right outside and usually delighted in yanking the door open, scaring the crap out of him. As he slid his key into the lock, Winona brushed against his wrist and he smiled as he thought of the woman he'd met. _Katie_. Okay, so maybe he was an ass to be thinking about one woman when he was coming home to another but…

All thoughts of Katie, and his own less than admirable attributes, fled his mind as he pushed open the door to a completely darkened apartment. That alone was unusual. Jill usually left the blinds open to let in as much sunshine as possible, since they were much too high up for people to peek in the windows. Now, not only were the blinds drawn and every light shut off, the place was also entirely empty. No furniture, blank walls, bare floor – empty.

Chuck didn't even take his keys from the lock as he rushed into the room. "Jill?" he called, cautiously at first, then more urgently as he moved from room to room finding nothing and no one. "Jill!"

Everything was gone. His TV was gone, his Xbox, his PlayStation, his computer and even his clothes. There wasn't a trace of Jill to be found either, not so much as a tube of lipstick left on the bathroom counter. He stopped in the hallway for a moment and ran his hands though his hair, setting the curls in disarray. What the hell was going on?

He searched the apartment twice over, but the only thing he found was the framed Tron poster his father had given to him as a child. Jill had hated it, but he hadn't been able to throw it away no matter how much she insisted. Instead, he'd hidden it away in the back of the guest closet.

He was using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe off some of the accumulated dust when someone behind him cleared their throat. The unexpected sound seemed to echo through the empty room. Startled, he lost his balance, dropped the poster and fell backward, smacking his head on the hangar rod.

"Excuse me," a man was saying as Chuck closed his eyes against the stinging pain in his scalp. "I didn't mean to startle you, but the door was open."

Chuck rubbed his head and looked up at his unwelcome guest. It was a man, slightly shorter and much older than he was, with wavy hair, cropped short. His very square jaw was set at an angle as he looked, critically, back at Chuck.

"Mmm," Chuck responded as he bent down to retrieve the poster. "Well, as you can see, I'm not quite set up for company at the moment, but how can I help you?"

"Are you Mr. Bartowski?" He sounded hoarse, like his voice was close to wearing out from over use.

"That's me." He looked the guy over, the uneasy feeling that had taken up residence in his stomach increasing.

"I'm Detective Pierre, LAPD, and I need you to come downtown."

Chuck stepped back ever so slightly and stood up straighter. "Why, what's this about?"

"Your girlfriend, Jill Roberts," Detective Pierre said, holding out a hand toward Chuck as if to escort him.

"Wha — what? What about Jill, do you know where she is?" Chuck demanded, not moving from his spot inside the closet.

The Detective sighed and dropped his hand. The look on his face was only slightly sympathetic as he said, simply, "She's dead."

xXx

Chuck was cold and it had little to do with the chill in the air. As detective Pierre led him into the viewing room, he felt cold in places that weren't affected by things like the reading on a thermostat. He trembled slightly and wrapped his arms around his chest as his eyes swept the sheet covered form on the table in front of him. He came to a stop, still some distance away, as some unknown guy in a white lab coat moved toward the head of that draped figure. Chuck had no desire to see what was under that sheet.

"Mr. Bartowski?" Detective Pierre asked, once again holding out a hand toward him. Chuck avoided it, swallowed down the bile his rebellious stomach was trying to eject, and moved closer. He could do this. He forced his eyes to remain open as the white linen was pulled back – and then there she was.

Jill, her formerly golden skin now grayish and pale, lay on the table. There was a gash, along with some bruising, on her cheek that stood out starkly against her postmortem complexion. Despite that, she was still beautiful, and in spite of all that had happened between them, Chuck still cared for her. The cold inside him grew as he looked at her lifeless form. It seeped into his bones. They had shared their lives – well, he had shared his with her – for the last seven years and he just couldn't believe it had _all_ been a lie. Surely not every moment, every laugh, every smile. Things Jill would never do again.

"Is this your girlfriend, Mr. Bartowski?" the detective was asking from somewhere that seemed very distant and Chuck somehow managed to nod. The sheet was replaced and Jill was gone from his sight. He closed his eyes then, but the image of her was burned into his consciousness.

Detective Pierre led him away from the morgue, up through the bowels of the police station and they ended up in a dreary little area on the upper floors of the building. Long ago, someone had painted the walls a mild shade of green, probably in hopes of having a calming effect, but with the patina left behind by years of use, it only added to the grimy, neglected ambiance. Chuck was barely aware as he was ushered into to a dimly lit office. He looked around and took note that it wasn't the interrogation room he'd expected. There was a set of well worn leather couches against one wall and wide, grimy windows that looked out onto the main police floor. Detective Pierre stepped in with a manila folder under his arms and two Styrofoam cups filled with coffee.

"Do, uh, I need a lawyer for this or…" Chuck asked, looking from the cups to the older man's face.

The detective looked over and grinned at him and though Chuck had the impression he was trying to come off as friendly, it just wasn't working. "No, no, Mr. Bartowski, you're not a suspect. I just have a few questions I'm hoping you can answer about the victim."

"Oh," he breathed, smoothing a nervous hand over his t-shirt. He took the offered cup of coffee and finally asked the question that had been burning in the back of his throat. "What… um, what happened to her?" He sat shakily on the couch.

Detective Pierre took a seat opposite him and opened the folder he'd been carrying. "Miss Roberts' body was found at the Los Angeles International Airport." He opened the folder and withdrew a photo. He set it down on the coffee table in front of Chuck who leaned forward to look automatically, without waiting for the Detective to finish. "She had been stuffed inside a suitcase with a plastic bag wrapped around her head." Chuck heard the words at the same time the image in the photos registered and he recoiled. Wrapping his arms around himself, Chuck covered his mouth and closed his eyes as he tried to push down the nausea roiling up inside him. _Oh God, I really wish I hadn't seen that…_

When he opened his eyes, Detective Pierre was looking at him, studying him with cool blue eyes that made Chuck feel exposed and uncomfortable. He tried to sit up straight and relax, 'man up' as it were, but it was difficult. He couldn't get the picture of Jill's horrifying, silent scream out of his head.

And then, to make matters worse, his mind was suddenly filled with fifteen different images. Each a different person, each the same silent scream, their eyes open wide and helpless, plastic stretched taut over blue lips. Along with the pictures of the dead, there was also a bunch of information that passed through his mind at lightning speed.

 _No known photo, wanted, Fulcrum_ , _Suspected code name: Coldstreet…_

He blinked the thoughts away, not understanding where they had come from. Was it something he'd seen on the news? Maybe one of Morgan's all night B-Movie marathons?

"Mr. Bartowski?" Detective Pierre was saying and Chuck snapped his head up, wondering how long he'd been zoning out. "Are you alright? You look a little green."

"I'm fine," Chuck said, a little too quickly. "I mean, I'll be fine, I've just…" he swallowed as he thought of the picture. He gestured toward it with his hand and didn't say anything else.

Detective Pierre studied him silently for another moment before turning back to the folder in his hands. "Do you know of any reason she would've wanted to leave the country?"

Chuck frowned. "Leave? No."

"Miss Roberts had purchased two tickets to Venezuela, KIPA Airlines, flight 623. It left LAX Yesterday afternoon."

"Venezu-cwhat?"

"Was the other ticket for you?"

"No. I don't —" Chuck stood up and started pacing. "I was in Lake Tahoe. She was supposed to come with me… I – she never told me about any plans…" Chuck stopped, his shoulders slumping as he turned back to the detective. "That's not really new. She kept a lot of secrets. Maybe there was someone else."

"Mmm," was the detective's only response to Chuck's speculation. He looked down at his paper work again. "Miss Roberts was American?"

"Yeah," Chuck replied, still standing, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He frowned. It seemed an odd question.

"Her Profession?"

"She was a biochemist. She, um, she worked for Cowl-McGregor Pharmaceuticals."

"Was she a wealthy woman?"

Chuck stood up straighter for a moment. "I don't know. I always thought she inherited some money from her parents. We never really talked about it."

"Where did she keep her money?"

"I don't know. She was pretty private about that…" It had been one of the many things that had been bothering him.

"Mhm," the detective made a note. "Any living relatives?"

"I –" He released an exasperated breath. "I don't know," Chuck said again. Jill hadn't ever mentioned her family and the few times he'd tried to bring it up in the beginning of their relationship, she'd dodged the questions. Sometimes quite forcefully.

Detective Pierre tossed his pen down on the coffee table with a loud 'clack'. "That's ridiculous," he said, his voice edged with barely contained frustration.

"I know," was all Chuck said, his gaze focused on an oddly shaped crack in the wall plaster.

Detective Pierre sighed and moved to the door. A young woman in a police uniform ran up when he poked his head out. Pierre's voice drifted in through the open door but the other officer remained muted. "Yeah, I'm ready for the belongings. … Yeah, thanks." Chuck looked over, watching as the detective shut the door. Pierre moved around and sat on the arm of the couch, facing Chuck. "On Friday, Miss Roberts sold the entire contents of your apartment, as well as several other assets, in an auction. Records show she was paid 250,000 dollars. A cool quarter of a million." Chuck felt his knees start to wobble and quickly sat back down.

A man entered the room with a plastic crate and both men turned toward him. Pierre got up and retrieved it, setting it on the coffee table. "Thanks Harvey." Turning back to Chuck, he said. "These things were found with Miss Roberts." He held up a familiar black purse. Flipping open the top flap, Detective Pierre turned it over, dumping the contents out onto the coffee ringed surface. "One wallet, containing four thousand dollars, one cell phone –– one number programed in, only two calls made to that number. One incoming call from a different number. Traced both numbers and came up empty." Pierre leaned forward and showed Chuck the numbers on the screen. He looked at them carefully and then shook his head.

"I'm sorry, I don't recognize the numbers – or the phone for that matter. Jill had one of those new iPhones. She always wanted the latest tech, she was kind of a nerd that way –"

"Mr. Bartowski –"

"Sorry."

"A small notebook with only one note - 'Colby Park, 1:30 pm.' Why? What's there?"

"I don't know. There are all kinds of events going on there all the time, maybe she wanted to go to one?"

"Obviously," Pierre murmured, non-committal, tossing the notebook aside. He reached for another item. "Two tickets to South America, one letter, stamped but unsealed – addressed to you."

Chuck blinked. A letter? He held out his hand. "Um, may I?"

The detective nodded and handed the letter to Chuck. He carefully slipped the piece of paper from the envelope. It smelled of Jill's perfume and he recognized her handwriting immediately. He read the letter out loud.

_Dearest Chuck,_

_I hope you are having fun with your sister; Lake Tahoe is so beautiful this time of year. Listen, I've been sent on a last minute business trip! It's a huge advancement opportunity, and I couldn't say no, but I'll be out of the country for months. I want you to come and join me. I'll be in touch as soon as I can._

_Love Always,_

_Jill_

_P.S. The dentist called, your appointment has been changed to December 20that one._

"This doesn't make any sense…" Chuck muttered softly. Why would she liquidate their apartment? Didn't she think he'd mind coming home to nothing? She'd sold his clothes for crying out loud!

"We called your dentist," the detective interrupted his thoughts. "Thought we might discover something."

"And?" Chuck asked, looking up hopefully.

"Nothing, you don't even have a dentist appointment scheduled. You should probably take care of that."

Chuck made a face.

"One key — to your apartment — one hair clip, one lip gloss, two condoms, a pen, a tooth brush and one tube of spearmint tooth paste." Detective Pierre finished, setting the last item down with a 'thunk.' "That's it." He held up the purse and the crate to show they were both empty. "As you can see, no quarter of a million. We already checked your account. It was never deposited." He looked at Chuck once more with that cool assessing stare. He was very good at that look. It made Chuck want to fade into the leather upholstery. Finally, Detective Pierre moved behind a desk in the corner and opened a drawer. He removed a file, along with a piece of paper that he set in front of Chuck. "If you'll just sign here, as you are the only person listed as next of kin, you can take these things with you."

Chuck frowned at that but leaned forward to scribble hi name on the indicated line, then he looked up. There was a new level of weariness in his voice as he said, "Is that it? Can I go now?"

"One more thing, Mr. Bartowski." Chuck looked up from the list warily. "Is this Jill's passport?" Pierre held up a dark blue booklet and opened it for Chuck to see. Inside were Jill's picture and name.

"Yeah," Chuck said softly, sitting up a little straighter.

"And this?" This time he held up a red booklet. Inside, Jill's face stared back at him only this time there was a different name – Roza Mihov.

"I don't…"

"And this one?" Another passport, another name.

In all, the detective showed him five different passports. Five pictures of Jill, five different countries, five different names. Chuck sat stunned, his mind reeling.

Who the hell had he been living with for the last five years?

 


	3. Chapter 3

Chuck looked at his reflection in the large, plate glass window of what used to be his business. The words _Bartowski Computer Repair and Programming_ were still etched across it in gold lettering. He saw what he usually saw, a tall lanky guy, with unruly dark brown hair and brown eyes, nothing special. In fact, he looked like crap. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair was a disheveled mess, threatening to reach afro stage any moment, and he looked like he hadn't slept in a week. To top off his appearance, he still had a headache throbbing at the front of his skull. God, had it really been only that morning he'd awoken to Ellie pounding on his hotel room door? He sighed and leaned forward, letting his head come to rest against the cold glass.

The sound of footsteps coming toward him on the side walk snapped him back to reality and he turned quickly to see who it was. The suitcases at his feet were all he had left on the planet and he wasn't going to be happy if he got mugged. Instead of an attacker, or even some random stranger simply passing by, Chuck was surprised by the woman who sauntered up to him smiling shyly.

"Katie?" his voice sounded a little high and he cleared his throat. "Phone trouble again or other tech repair needs? I'd love to help you but as you can see, we're closed."

She laughed. "No, no repair needs." Her gaze swept over him and he was caught up for a moment in how startlingly blue her eyes were. "I thought I might find you here," she said finally. "I heard about what happened on the news."

"What?" He blinked. "You did? On the news? Wow, I don't even... I just…" His eyes grew wide and he scrambled for his phone. "Oh, crap, Ellie is going to freak out! I haven't even talked to her yet!"

"Chuck, calm down." Katie reached out and took his hand, giving it a squeeze, and a pulse of warmth flowed through his arm. "It's a lot to take in."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You don't know the half of it."

"So," she looked down at the paraphernalia at his feet. "What are you doing here?"

Chuck looked down too. He probably looked pretty ridiculous standing on the sidewalk with his battered luggage, Jill's purse, and a Tron poster. "Well, since Jill sold everything in our apartment, I thought I'd come down here," he started. "I have – _had_ – a very nice leather couch in my office but apparently Jill 'The Giant Mystery' has struck here as well. The land lord has already changed the locks."

Katie peeked inside the windows. The space looked empty and abandoned. "Yeah, you can't stay here. Where will you go?"

"My sister's place probably. That's Ellie, the one I was rambling about a minute ago."

"I can give you a ride," Katie offered, looking up at him with those eyes. Good lord those were long lashes. Chuck felt himself leaning in towards her and shook himself.

"I don't know…"

"C'mon, I'll buy you dinner." She gave him a huge smile. "You are homeless after all. I can probably write it off."

"Nice, now I'm a charity case. Thanks, thanks for that." Chuck grinned, the guilt and anxiety of the past several hours fading to the background for a moment. "Alright, you talked me into it. But I can pay for my own dinner, I'm not completely broke yet." He reached down to gather his things and she reached down to help.

"If you insist." She held up Jill's purse with a raised brow.

"I know, it doesn't go with my shoes," he sighed. She giggled as she looked down at his chucks. His face took on a more serious countenance, lips quirking up at the corner. "It was Jill's."

She gave him a sympathetic look and looped it over her shoulder. He pulled the strap of his laptop case over his neck and grabbed his bags, while Katie grabbed the Tron poster.

"C'mon," she said, gesturing for him to follow her. "I think you'll like my car."

xXx

"So, your girlfriend, Jill?" Katie started once their food had arrived. They were seated at a small table at small cafe near the beach. He looked down at his plate of pasta, suddenly realizing how hungry he was. "Does it bother you to talk about it or…?"

"No, no actually," Chuck said, twirling noodles around on his fork. "Actually, I think it might make me feel better to talk about it."

"Yeah?"

"Mm." He took a sip of water. "Right now my head, my feelings, are a mess. For example, what you just said. I actually don't even know if _Jill_ was her real name." Katie's eyes got big at that statement.

"Wow, how long were you two together?"

"Seven years, if you don't count the short break up right after college."

"That's a long time. How come you never married her? If… you don't mind my asking."

Chuck shrugged and poked around at his food. "I don't know. I guess something always felt a little off. The crazy truth is that it never really occurred to me to ask her. I mean, what does that say?"

Katie gave him a sympathetic grin. "I suppose it says that she wasn't the right girl for you."

"Or maybe it says I'm just a jerk?" Chuck grimaced and returned to his food. Maybe he was a jerk, after all, here he was, on the same day he'd learned of his girlfriend's death, having lunch with a woman he found so attractive she made his chest ache.

He chanced another look at her from across the table. She was looking out the window toward the beach, and the sun, making its final descent, cast her in a golden, ethereal glow.

It wasn't only that he found her physically attractive. Yes, she was incredibly beautiful. Her golden hair was pulled up in an untidy knot and several curls fell over the curve of her long neck. Her skin there was translucent and smooth, and he couldn't deny that he wanted to touch it and see if it was as soft as it looked. But there was something else as well. Something not as easily defined. He'd noticed it during their first conversation at the ski resort –was that really only yesterday? – Being in her presence made something restless inside of him sort of… settle.

"No, I don't think that's it at all," she said, pulling him back into the moment. "I admit I haven't known you very long, but I don't get that impression." She looked at him, her gaze connecting with his and not looking away. "And I'm a very good judge of character."

Chuck swallowed. It was surprisingly difficult. He didn't look away and neither did she. Then her gaze fell to his lips and Chuck felt like all the air had been sucked from the room.

"How's everything tasting for you guys this evening?" the waitress interrupted, and Chuck jerked back like someone had slapped him. Usually they asked him that question right when he'd taken a big bite of food and he ended up trying to answer with his mouth full. This was infinitely worse.

Katie seemed completely unaffected. "It's delicious, thank you."

Chuck only managed to nod his agreement. Although, at the moment, he couldn't even remember what his food tasted like.

"So, Chuck, tell me," Katie began as she cut deftly into her steak. "How did you get into the computer repair business?"

xXx

Chuck groaned as his body shifted into wakefulness. The combination of his fall on the ski slopes, a night on the floor of his hotel, and the emotional strain of yesterday's events, accompanied by a night on his sister's far too short couch, were leaving a mark on his usually undauntedly positive attitude. The smell of coffee made the idea of opening his eyes slightly more appealing, so he cracked one open only to find his sister sitting on a chair near his head. He squinted at her and shifted onto his side, pulling up his knees so that his feet were no longer dangling over the arm of the familiar, brown sofa.

"Ellie," he said grumpily, knowing she had been watching him sleep. She was the worrying type, having taken over being his mother when the original version took a walk sixteen years before. After last night, her mother-hen routine was on full alert. "You know I hate it when you do that."

Eleanor Bartowski didn't say anything, she merely held out a steaming cup of coffee and waited for him to take it, her mouth pursed into a worried little knot.

"Thanks," Chuck said, pulling the mug to him and taking a slow, careful sip. "God, I really miss your coffee." That got a little smirk out of her and broke the tension that had been hovering over the room.

"You never use enough when you make it, and J—" She sighed. "Sorry."

"It's okay, El, Jill was never all that handy in the kitchen."

"I'm so sorry this happened, Chuck, and I'm really sorry you had to sleep on the couch instead of your room!" She moved from the chair to the space right beside him as he shifted into a fully sitting position.

"It's alright," Chuck said, feeling more fortified as the coffee started to hit his system. "Far be it for me to toss the Awesome's out of bed. Besides, that hasn't been my room for a very long time."

"Please, don't call them that, and I know you haven't lived here for a long time but, Devon's parents or no, it will always be _your_ room."

"Don't take this the wrong way, El, but I sincerely hope not." He gave her the cheesiest grin he could managed after the last 24 hours. "I kind of have my heart set on being an uncle eventually." At her blush he continued. "I can see it now. The pitter-patter of awesome little feet." She punched him in the arm and he laughed, rubbing the spot as if she'd actually hurt him.

"Oh, Chuck," Ellie sighed, her shoulders slumping. "What are you going to do?"

"Well, I think I need to find a hotel."

"Can you afford that?"

"Not really, but I'll manage."

"Do you have something to wear today?"

Chuck, rubbed a hand over his face at the thought of the funeral. Jill had planned ahead in that department, surprisingly, and all Chuck had had to do was sign papers. The whole thing had already been paid for. "Yeah, I have the suit I took with me on our trip; I just need to get it pressed."

"Okay." She patted his shoulder and stood to her feet. "I'll start breakfast. You might want to hurry up and shower before the Awesomes get back from their run."

"Hey, don't call them that!" Chuck sing-songed after her and she laughed, shooing him with her hand as she hurried into the kitchen.

xXx

The soft music echoed in the large, nearly empty room making the notes sound disjointed and nonsensical. Chuck pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose as the noise began to eat away at his already weakened resilience.

"Boy, not much of a turn out," Morgan Grimes whispered, leaning into Chuck's shoulder. He was much shorter than Chuck, with a thick, dark beard that covered most of his face.

"Shh," Ellie reprimanded.

"Didn't Jill have any friends?" Morgan asked, undaunted.

"I don't know, I'm just the boyfriend," Chuck responded, but he had been wondering the same thing. The room was empty except for his family and – "If Jill had died at home in bed we wouldn't even have him." He made a little toss of his head in the direction of a lone figure at the back of the room.

Detective Pierre sat in the last row of seats, absently looking around, seeming perfectly at ease. Chuck chanced a look back but turned forward abruptly.

"At least he knows how to behave at a funeral," Ellie said sharply and both Morgan and Chuck settled into their seats.

The door at the back opened abruptly, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room. The newcomer – a petite young woman with caramel colored skin and dark, shiny hair – strode up to the casket where Jill's body lay with a confident, uninhibited stride. Chuck watched in curiosity as this woman he'd never seen before looked down at his dead girlfriend intently.

"Bah!" she shouted, out of the blue, jumping at Jill with her arms raised as if to attack. Everyone in the front row jumped, their eyes widening as they stared at her. Seemingly satisfied, she turned, gave Chuck a small nod and found a seat a few rows behind them on the left.

"What on earth was that?" Morgan asked. Chuck just gave a little shake of his head.

"Shh," was Ellie's disapproving response.

A moment later the door opened again, this time much more quietly. A man strode down the aisle this time, and leaned in over Jill's body. He was fairly tall, with blonde hair and a slight up-turn to his nose that added softness to his otherwise severe face. He reached in his pocket, pulled out a small mirror and held it under her nose for a long moment. Once he'd returned it to his pocket, he turned and made his way over to the front row, looking from one person to another. His eyes settled on Chuck and suddenly the episode in the police station repeated itself. Chuck felt his eyelids flicker slightly as a rush of images flashed across his consciousness.

_Alias: Edgar._

_Known Expertise: Formerly a member of the infectious disease taskforce._

_Affiliation: Fulcrum._

"You must be, Chuck," he said, and Chuck blinked up at him as the images faded. There was the hint of a smile on the man's face as he continued. "I'm really sorry for your loss." Chuck watched as he too took a seat several rows back, but as far from the mystery woman as possible, then he and Morgan shared a long, questioning look.

Chuck checked his watch, noting that it was nearly time for viewing to end and breathed a guilty sigh of relief. He hadn't been able to look at Jill himself because, even though she looked beautiful and unharmed – almost as if she were only sleeping – he couldn't get that image of her in the suitcase out of his head.

Finally, Chuck gave the funeral director a weary nod and the spindly man made his way toward the front. He shuffled some paper on the podium and was about to speak when the door banged open loudly. There was no subtly in the way everyone turned to look this time, and Devon's eyebrows rose high on his forehead at the sight of the woman who entered.

She was the text book definition of terribly beautiful. Jet black hair fell to her shoulders in soft waves and her red lips were full and well suited to the rest of her face, but her eyes were hard and cold, her expression harsh as she strode into the room. When Chuck looked at her face, it happened again. First there was a palm tree, then pages of information followed by gruesome images of people being tortured. Chuck's heart rate kicked up as the woman walked past him.

She looked down at Jill's prone body and nearly snarled. She kept one hand tucked away inside her jacket, but with the other she withdrew a long, scary looking needle from her lapel. Chuck felt himself break out in a cold sweat at just the sight of it and he watched, flabbergasted when the woman jabbed it forcefully into Jill's arm. Again, everyone in the front row jumped, but Jill remained motionless and the woman drew back and swept one more glare over the dead woman's body. As one, the Barkowski-Woodcomb-Grimes contingent turned to watch as the woman stormed angrily out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

"Okay," Devon said, his deep voice rumbling in the quiet aftermath. "That was scary."

"Chuck!" Ellie whispered, grabbing onto his jacket sleeve. "What the hell is going on?"

"I only wish I knew," Chuck replied, closing his eyes. _Good God, what next_ , he thought, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He jumped as a hand clamped down on his shoulder, and turned startled eyes on the man standing behind him. The stranger bowed apologetically and handed him a small envelope.

Chuck opened it and read the brief and cryptic message inside.

_Mr. Bartowski,_

_Please drop by my office around noon tomorrow. I am anxious to discuss the incidences surrounding the recent death of your girlfriend._

_Sincerely,_

_A. Bartholomew_

"Who's it from?" Morgan asked leaning over to have a look.

"It's from the Federal Building downtown," Chuck replied with a confused frown. "Someone there wants to talk to me about Jill."

xXx

Chuck knocked trepidatiously on the door of the office he'd been directed to. After several long moments he chanced a second knock and the door was yanked open under his hand.

The man standing in the doorway was a little taller than Chuck's 6' 4", but with much broader shoulders and a barrel like torso that tapered to narrow hips. His demeanor was decidedly less friendly and he looked a little out of place in the dark suit he wore, even though it fit him well. "Yeah?" was his only greeting.

"I'm Chuck Bartowski," Chuck began, trying hard not to stumble over his words. "You wanted to talk to me?" He held up the letter he'd received as proof.

"Huh, right," the man said, stepping aside to allow Chuck to enter the office. "Sorry, things have been a little crazy around here. I'm Bartholomew." He reached out to shake Chuck's hand. He squeezed hard and Chuck tried not to grimace. "Sit." Mr. Bartholomew directed, pointing at the chair in front of his desk.

Chuck obeyed quickly and Bartholomew took the seat across from him.

"You want a drink?" Bartholomew asked, offering up a glass of dark liquid. Chuck shook his head. "Suit yourself," the man continued and tossed it back himself before he began going through the piles of paperwork on his desk. As the older man sifted through several folders, Chuck looked around the small, drab space.

"Nice office," Chuck said, growing uncomfortable with the silence. "Very – homey."

"It's a shit hole," Bartholomew said without looking up. "I feel sorry for the poor schmuck who has to use it on a regular basis."

"This – this isn't your office?"

Bartholomew moved around the desk, folder in hand, and leaned back on the corner of the desk where he could look down at Chuck. " _No._ Tell me, Mr. Bartowski, have you ever heard of DARPA?"

"Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency," Chuck said. "You work for DARPA? That's amazing. I'm really into technology so that's… you - you don't really look like the research type…" Chuck held his breath to keep himself from rambling any further.

Mr. Bartholomew grinned and Chuck found it more frightening than the scowl. "Well, I work more in the area of _security._ " Chuck nodded and the man looked down at the folder in his hand. "See, I'm here on business. I've got a bit of a puzzle to solve and I think you may have a few of my missing pieces."

"Okay," Chuck said, feeling a little nervous. He didn't really have anything to hide but the letter had said this was about Jill and apparently she was hiding all sorts of things, most of which Chuck knew nothing about. "I'll help in whatever way I can."

Mr. Bartholomew looked down at him, intently. "It should go without saying, but I'm saying it. Everything we are about to discuss is a matter of national security. You tell anybody, talk to _anyone_ , about what we are going to discuss here and you'll be committing treason." There was that smile again. "We understand each other, Mr. Bartowski?"

Chuck Swallowed. "Yes."

"Good, there'll be paper work for you to sign before you're allowed to leave; now, on to business. Your girlfriend was wanted by the United States Government."

Chuck's eyes widened. "I think I'll take that drink now." Bartholomew poured a finger of scotch into the glass and handed it to Chuck who swallowed it in one gulp. It burned all the way down and his voice was strained when he spoke again. "Okay. _What_ now?"

"Jill Roberts flew into Washington last Thursday, broke into the DARPA facility and stole some very important, very valuable information. She then proceeded to blow up the project."

"Jill – what? She's a biochemist!"

"That was just a cover, Mr. Bartowski. Or, mostly a cover, she works for a group called Fulcrum." The man's glare darkened. "You ever heard that word before?"

Chuck's mind immediately went back to the incident in at the police station. Technically, he couldn't remember ever _hearing_ the word before; he shook his head.

"Well, let's just say that they think _they_ should be the ones to say how this country is run and that the rest of us disagree and leave it at that. Now," he held up a picture. Chuck recognized the woman from the funeral immediately. She looked cute and innocent in the photo, with large dark eyes, a prominent nose and a pointed little chin. "You ever see this woman?"

"She," Chuck cleared his throat. "She was at Jill's funeral."

"Lizzie Shafai," Bartholomew said. "Deadly in hand to hand combat and whatever you do, don't go near her when she has a knife."

Chuck looked wide eyed at the woman's face in the photo. She didn't look deadly.

"And how about this fella?"

"He, was there too," Chuck said. "He seemed… happy."

Bartholomew sneered. "Sounds like him. He's a prick but a smart prick." He pulled up another photo and Chuck already knew what was coming. "And the real prize of the bunch, Alexis White."

"Yeah, she was there," Chuck said. Remembering that moment at the funeral yesterday, he almost shuddered. "Not something I'm going to forget anytime soon."

"Formally Special Forces." Chuck knew that. "Likes torture." Chuck knew that too. He didn't, however, feel inclined to tell Bartholomew that. He had no idea what was going on with his brain, and something told him he should find out before he started telling people about his sudden talent for being a psychic.

"We believe Jill was working with them in some capacity," the other man continued. "The fact that they are sticking around, their interest in the funeral yesterday – indicate to me that we were correct." Bartholomew set the pictures down and turned back to Chuck. "The information Jill stole, they want it, and I'm pretty sure they think you've got it."

"Me?" Chuck said, his voice sliding up and octave. "I don't have it! Why – Why would they think that?"

"I think you _do_ have it, Mr. Bartowski. Somehow, some way, you do," Mr. Bartholomew said. "Find it, get it to us. It's the only way you're going to be safe." He set the folders on the table and moved around to the other side of the desk. "I hate to be the one to say this Mr. Bartowski, but keep in mind what happened to your girlfriend."

Chuck's eyes opened wide. Was it only him or did that sound more like a threat than a warning? "What if I just leave town?"

"Oh, they'll find you, and so will I. _That_ I guarantee."

Chuck opened and closed his mouth for a moment before setting it in a grim line. "Is there anything else you need from me?"

Bartholomew looked thoughtful for a moment but something about it was almost mocking. "No, Mr. Bartowski. I think I have all I need from you. Just sign these and you'll be on your way." He set a large stack of papers in front of Chuck who goggled at them before scooting in to have a look.

"Wow," he said meekly. "You guys are really thorough."

It was more than half an hour later before Chuck, his hand cramped and his eyes bleary, pushed the papers away and stood to his feet.

"Thank you, Mr. Bartowski," the other man said, standing as he did. He held out a card toward Chuck who took it almost robotically. "If you find out any more information, or if you get yourself into trouble, please call me at any of those numbers."

Chuck merely nodded, shoving the small white card into his pocket as he opened the office door.

"Remember, Bartowski. You tell anyone about this and it won't only be treason but it will most likely prove fatal - for you _and_ for them."

Chuck looked back, startled then continued out of the office, anxious to be anywhere else.

Bartholomew's eyes followed Chuck until the door closed behind him. For a few moments he continued to watch the door, his gaze emotionless. Then he pulled out his phone and, with the efficiency of someone who had done something many times, tapped in a long sequence of numbers.

"It's me," he said gruffly and then paused to listen, then grunted. "Hard to tell if he's involved, but my instincts say no." He frowned while the other person spoke and gave a slight shake to his head even though he couldn't be seen. "Negative, don't bring him in. He's still the key to finding the Intersect. Besides, Anderson is still out there and the kid makes perfect bait.


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

xXx

Chuck shoved his hands in his pockets as he stared out over the large pond. The cool breeze ruffled through his hair, sending the curls into disarray. Ellie had said it was getting too long. She was probably right. He pulled his arms in tighter to his body. Though the temperature was mild, he felt cold.

"Now, I was sure," a voice said from behind him, and he turned quickly to see Katie O'Connell making her way across the grass. "That you told me to meet you over there," she said, pointing to an artistically carved bench near a small grouping of trees.

"Yeah, sorry, I got distracted by the ducks."

She smiled as she stepped up beside him and looked down at the birds as they swam near his feet. "They are cute."

"Must be nice to be a duck, no real worries in life, floating around on the water all day, people tossing you bread crumbs…"

"Hunters trying to shoot you," Katie tagged on and he chuckled, turning toward her.

"Okay, so maybe no one really has it easy."

There was a long stretch of companionable silence as the watched the ducks together. Chuck let himself be lost in their antics, splashing about, slipping playfully underwater and cautiously investigating each new visitor to see if they'd brought food.

"How did it go yesterday?" Katie finally asked. Chuck sighed.

"It was… weird, awful," he said. "God, it's just so impossible to wrap my head around. Someone _killed_ _her_ , Katie. They pulled a bag over her head and stuffed her in a suitcase." He shook his head. "I don't care that she lied, or what she was involved in, no one deserves that."

She grimaced. "That's terrible. I'm so sorry, Chuck."

Chuck shook his head. "At least _I'm_ not dead." _Yet_. He thought of Mr. Bartholomew's warning and tried not to shudder. "The police say I'm not a suspect, but… that Detective…"

"What are you going to do?"

"Well, I can't stay with my sister. She's going out of town and Awesome's parents are apartment sitting."

Katie looked curious. "Awesome?"

"My sister's boyfriend," he said, almost managing a real smile this time. "We call him Captain Awesome because everything he does is _awesome_. He also says it a lot."

"Sounds annoying," she said with a soft laugh.

He laughed along with her. "You'd think so, but no," he said. "He's awesome like that too. As inferior as he makes me feel sometimes, he's impossible not to like. And he really loves Ellie."

"And that means a lot to you." It was a statement, not a question and the look she gave him was one he couldn't quite decipher.

"Yeah, it does."

"Well, maybe I'll get to meet them both someday," she said smiling up at him. It was like sunshine, that smile, and when she went back to watching the ducks, he watched her for a few moments longer.

"You know, the hotel I'm staying at is pretty inexpensive," she said and, once again, Chuck realized that he'd drifted off to someplace other than reality. "You know… if you need a place." She shrugged her shoulder and didn't meet his eye.

Chuck swallowed. Okay, so it wasn't like she was asking him to stay in her room, but still… It seemed like a big deal that she was offering up her location. "Yeah, sure, I haven't even had a chance to think about where I'm gonna stay. I mean, my buddy Morgan still lives with his mom, so that's out of the question."

"Ah, let me guess, he still uses his Star Wars sheets too," she said grinning.

"Very good," Chuck said. "Spot on actually. Do you work for the bedding police or something?" he asked playfully. "Katie, are you a _spy_?"

Her eyes got big for a moment and then she burst out laughing. "Indeed, and I'll be watching you, Mr. Bartowski, so you'd better stay in line!" She gave him a playful shove. "C'mon, I'll take you to my hotel. Do you have a car? Do we need to get your stuff?"

"That would be a no, and a yes," Chuck replied as he followed after her.

"I guess that means you need _another_ ride," she said. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him.

"Please?"

"I think you just like me for my car."

He gave her a quick once over as she stood above him on the grassy incline, hands on her hips, blue eyes sparkling with laughter. The sunlight haloed her golden hair and danced across her smooth skin. He smiled. "The jet black, Porsche 911 turbo?" he replied. "Couldn't possibly be _that_."

She laughed and grabbed his hand, pulling him along behind her.

On a nearby bench, Detective Pierre lowered his paper and watched the couple walk away. His cool blue eyes followed them, thoughtfully, until they'd disappeared from sight then he folded his paper and started off in the opposite direction.

xXx

She was leaning against the check in counter, waiting with a quiet smile on her face, when he pushed through the glass doors. She had his laptop bag, which she'd grabbed before he could protest, slung over her shoulder and one arm rested on the counter.

"What took you so long?" she asked sweetly when he came to stand in front of her.

He just dropped his two, heavy suitcases at his feet and gave her a look. Turning to the girl behind the counter he said, "Hi, yeah, I'd like a room."

"No problem, sir, and how long will you be staying with us?"

"A week?" Chuck said. "I'm not really sure at the moment."

The young woman raised a brow and went back to typing in her computer. "Okay, I'll just need a credit card.

 _Fantastic_ , Chuck thought. He was going to be in debt up to his eyebrows by the time he got this mess sorted out. He handed over the requested card.

"Okay, Mr. Bartoh-ski-"

"Bartowski."

"Bartowski," she corrected with a smile. "You're in room 214." She handed him a card key and he slipped it into his back pocket.

"Hey," Katie said, bumping his shoulder. "You're right next to me."

Chuck smiled at her. "Well, that's a nice coincidence. Hope you don't mind having a nerd for a neighbor."

"Not at all," she said, reaching out and taking his suitcases. "I hear they're the best kind."

"Give me that," Chuck said, taking a huge, clumsy piece of luggage from her.

"Why," she challenged. "You think I can't carry it because I'm a girl?"

"No, I'm sure you could carry it and six more like it, girl or no, but I'm a guy and everyone will think I'm an ass if I let you carry _all_ of my bags."

"Fine," she said with a sigh, "Keep your ego and your bags." She waltzed over to the elevator and Chuck was caught up for a moment, simply watching her move – until she cleared her throat. He looked up to see her smirking at him as she held the door. "Are you coming?"

He felt himself blush as he hurried to catch up.

The elevator took them up, but it dumped them onto an outdoor balcony lined with doors all facing inward toward a large, well-used swimming pool. Chuck bumped along with his bags, following Katie and trusting her to take him to the correct room.

"Here you go," she said, stopping in front of the door for 214.

He came to a stop beside her and looked at the door to the place he'd be living for the next… who knew how long. He was just about to set down a suitcase and pull out his key, when Katie moved in.

She leaned in close, her gaze locked on his. She was close enough that he could smell the citrusy scent of her shampoo and see the different flecks of color in her eyes. Her hand slid over his waist and the suitcases fell from his hands as all the air left his lungs in a rush. He held perfectly still as her hand continued its journey around to the small of his back and then headed south, slipping into his back pocket. He was still unable to move when she pulled away, holding up his keycard with a little grin. "Wha-I-Um…" was his only response, even after he'd managed to get air back in his lungs. He watched dumbly as she unlocked the door and pushed it open.

Once he'd restored brain function, he picked his suitcases up and headed inside. Katie followed, lingering near the door as he looked around. "So, what do you think?" she asked after he'd checked the place out thoroughly.

"Well, it's not the Viceroy, but it'll do." He set his laptop on the bed and gave her a crooked little smile.

"And look," she said, striding across the room to a door in the wall. She unlocked it and pulled it open. The other side was simply another door. "This connects to my room. We can see each other without going out in the cold."

His grin widened at that. "Yeah, because it gets real cold here," he remarked and she gave him a little poke. He turned and grabbed his suitcase, setting it on top of the desk before moving to look out the window. He felt more than saw Katie take a seat on the edge of the mattress. She sat quietly as he continued to look out, reflecting on everything that had happened since he'd come home. His feelings concerning Jill — her lies, her murder — were a mess of conflicting emotions. Anger and guilt, mixed with betrayal and an odd sense of relief. Each one twisted and turned, feeding the others. He closed his eyes and let his forehead rest against the glass.

"Okay, Chuck," she finally said, pulling him out of his uneasy introspection. "That was your third sigh. Do you want to talk?"

He turned to look at her. "Sorry, I didn't even realize I was doing it."

"What are you apologizing for?" she said and gave a soft laugh. "I mean, I get that you're a nice guy, but you've just had your life turned inside out. You don't need to apologize for that."

"You're right. I'm – sorry," he laughed softly even as he said it. "I feel a little lost right now."

Katie tipped her head to the side and pursed her lips thoughtfully. "You know what you need?"

"A kick in the pants?"

"No," she laughed. "You need to have some fun. I am making myself Vice President in charge of cheering you up. Let's go out."

"Like a date?"

She nodded slowly, smiling.

Chuck wasn't sure he felt up to going out but maybe she was right. Plus, if she was asking him on a date he sure as hell wasn't going to say no. "Um, yeah, where do you want to go?"

"I was kind of hoping you could recommend someplace," she said. "I'm still new here and I only know about the obvious places. I bet you know all the good ones."

Chuck smiled. "Well, maybe not _all_ the good ones but… Yeah sure, um…" He tried to wrack his brain for some event or something cool and interesting that usually only locals knew about, but he really hadn't been paying attention the last few days. "Um… OH! What day is it?"

"Tuesday."

"Perfect," he said smiling. "There's a band I wanted to check out playing in this little underground place. You like music?"

"Um…" Katie shifted from one foot to another, looking awkward for the first time since he'd met her.

"What?" he laughed. "No really, who's your favorite band?"

"I don't," she shook her head and laughed, looking down at her feet for a moment. "I'm sorry! I don't listen to music very much."

"You don't…" he started a little flabbergasted. Who didn't listen to music? "Well, we can do something else…"

"No, no, I want to go," she said, stepping closer. She reached out and touched the sleeve of his shirt, tugging on it gently, and smiled at him. There was something subtly different in her eyes when she looked up at him but he couldn't place it, and then it was gone and she'd moved away. "Besides, you're the one we're trying to cheer up here."

"Okay, well, do you like Chinese? There's a great place about a block from the club."

"I love Chinese," she said, her smile widening.

"Okay," Chuck said ginning at her.

"Okay," she repeated. She was standing there, her hands stuck in her jeans pockets as she rocked forward on her toes, and they just looked at each other, seconds ticking by until Chuck lost track of them completely.

"I should probably —" he finally managed to say, gesturing toward the bathroom. "You know, take a shower and get ready."

"Probably," she said, not moving.

He crossed the room to the desk and started rummaging through his suitcase for toiletries. "God, I hate living out of a suitcase," he said as he shuffled through the once neatly folded clothes. "Nothing ever seems to end up in the same place when I repack." He made his way to the bathroom door, juggling shampoo and shaving supplies. He looked back and noticed she was still just standing there watching him. "Are you going to, uh, stay?" he asked, and he felt a blush creeping up his neck at the thought.

She smiled, a new one this time, wide and cheeky. "Maybe," she said and her eyes swept over him from head to toe before finally settling on his face. "Why?"

"No," he cleared his throat, "No reason," he finished and quickly ducked into the bathroom and shut the door.

xXx

Club EightyMad was tucked neatly beneath an old hotel that had recently been renovated and brought back to life. The only way to find the entrance was if you already knew it was there. Despite this, the dimly lit room was packed with people ready to cheer, or jeer, the new band when Chuck and Katie arrived.

He took her hand and steered her through the crowd to his favorite spot, the now expected hum of energy vibrating through him as their skin made contact. He let her take a seat first and then sat beside her with a bit of space between. She immediately moved in closer and Chuck felt something inside of him grow warm. He'd given her multiple opportunities to pull away since they'd met for the second time but she hadn't. Maybe, just maybe, this completely amazing and beautiful woman actually liked him.

She turned to him and smiled. "They're good," she said, leaning into him to be heard over the loud music.

"Good…" He laughed because he hadn't actually been listening. He felt her touch and looked down at her hand as it slid along his forearm and over his wrist to claim his hand. He hoped she didn't notice the goose-bumps the sensation created. Could she feel that spark as well or was this whole thing all in his head?

"C'mon," she said, pulling him to his feet. "Let's dance."

"Oh, I'm not much…" His protest was lost in the music as she pulled him out onto the floor. It was forgotten altogether when she spun him around to face her and started to dance.

Most of the people on the floor were just bouncing around to the rhythm, but not Katie, she _danced_. Chuck watched in awe as she moved her body, her motions fluid and graceful. The roll of her hips and the length of her arms as she lifted them above her head were more entrancing than the music she moved to.

She smiled at him coyly, a woman who knew her power, and pressed a warm hand against his chest. She danced around him, trailing her fingers over his collar bone then along his shoulder, and Chuck looked to the sky, praying to whatever powers that be, that he would survive this without embarrassing himself. Then she was in front of him again, biting her lip as she ran her hands down his body, over his hips and down his legs. He swallowed convulsively as he watched her.

Her presence invaded his senses as she stepped in even closer. She smelled lightly sweet, with hints of citrus and something exotic he couldn't place. The touch of her hand against his cheek was electrifying and the look in her eye as she twirled and came back to him, held him completely enthralled.

She took hold of his hips, moving them along with hers; guiding him until they were in sync, then she slid her hands up to the base of his neck, her hands warm and soft, keeping him close. Chuck closed his eyes at the feeling, heat suffusing his blood. Then her leg slid between his thighs and he was sure she was trying to kill him. She smiled up at him; open, pleased, and he forgot to be awkward and let himself get lost in her. He took hold of her waist on instinct and did the only there was to do - he moved with her.

With every sway, every roll of their hips, she would brush against him ever so lightly and Chuck felt stunned, in awe and more than a little turned on, at just the thought of this gorgeous woman dancing in his arms. Her fingers toyed with the curls of hair that brushed his neck, which had always been a particularly sensitive part of his anatomy, and his hand flexed on the small of her back, aching to bring her closer but too afraid that he would cross some unseen line. Then she closed her eyes as she leaned back, swinging away in an arc and when she returned, her soft blonde tresses falling wildly about her face, she was that much closer and Chuck surrendered to the desire.

She was so close he could feel her breath on his cheek and the warmth of her body through their clothes. He pulled her in closer, pressing his body against hers, and felt that now familiar thrum of energy, only this time it flooded his entire body. She was looking up at him from beneath those long, dark lashes. The coy smile was gone now, replaced by something different; a look that told him he wasn't the only one affected here. He tipped his head forward and touched the tip of his nose to the bridge of hers, running it down the slope, over her soft skin, until their lips were only a breadth apart. He waited. He felt her breath hitch, watched her eyes drift closed as she relaxed into him, and his whole body rejoiced as he moved in to kiss her.

From the left, someone slammed into them, _hard_ , breaking them apart and instead of their lips touching, their skulls cracked together. Chuck barely managed to keep himself upright.

"Sorry," the man slurred as he stumbled away. Chuck's eyes followed him with a glare for a moment before quickly turning back to Katie. She was holding her head and glaring after the man with even more venom than he had been.

"Are you alright?" Chuck asked moving to her side and trying to get a look at her head.

She dropped her hand and let out an annoyed breath. "I'm fine," she said harshly, then she looked up at him and her demeanor softened, a smile lifting the corner of her lips as she repeated more gently this time. "I'm fine."

She laid a hand reassuringly on his chest and he ran his gaze over her face, checking for damage first then merely enjoying the view as he brought it to rest on her soft mouth.

"I need a drink!" she said abruptly, pulling her hand from his chest. "You want anything?"

Chuck blinked then shook his head, cursing inwardly. ' _Idiot!'_ he thought, though whether he was talking about the drunken guy or himself he wasn't sure. "Yeah, sure," he replied. "Just, um, a beer would be great."

"Okay," she said, "Stay here, I'll be right back."

Chuck nodded as he watched her walk away. She didn't sway her hips like most women did in a pair of heels, but instead she strode confidently across the floor on those long legs of hers. "Damn." he said, his curse lost in the music around him.

He had barely come to the conclusion that he should go after her and offer to pay, at least for his own drink, when he was accosted. A woman – at least he thought it was a woman – threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. His eyes opened wide in surprise but all he could make out was coffee colored skin and coal black hair. He tried to pull her arms away and detach her lips – the last thing he needed was for Katie to come back and see this – but she merely pulled him in tighter and he thought, _yup, definitely a woman_ , as she crushed herself against his chest.

When she stopped kissing him, she didn't let go. Instead, one arm curved more securely around his neck squeezing tightly and her hand slid into his hair, gripping the curls until his scalp started to protest. She pressed the side of her face against his and he felt hot breath on his ear. He tried again to pry her off but she had him in a vice grip.

"You know it doesn't belong to you right, Chuck?" she said, her lips moving against the shell of his ear. "You can't keep it from us. Any morning now you could wake up dead, Chuck. Just like your girlfriend. Dead as a doornail, just like Jill."

" _Stop it,_ " Chuck demanded — angry, scared. Her hold on him loosened and he felt something cold glide down his cheek. He gripped her by her upper arms and this time he was able to push her away. Once she stepped away from him, he recognized the woman from Jill's funeral and the photos Mr. Bartholomew had shown him. She held up her hand and waggled something at him but it was too dark to tell what it was until a spotlight from the stage glinted off the blade and then all he could do was stare at the large knife in shock.

"Alright! You guys are fantastic!" a member of the band was shouting from the stage. "Stay right here, have a drink. We're gonna take a short break."

The music ended and people started to move, migrating to new locations, slipping between him and Lizzie Shafai, but Chuck kept his eyes glued to her face and the knife in her hand.

"Chuck," Katie's voice called from behind him and he whipped around to look at her. He blinked and turned back to his attacker but she was gone. He spun back to Katie, trying to cover the look of fear that had taken over. "What?" she asked, the smile falling off her face. "What's wrong?" Her voice was insistent, more like a mother than a date, but he didn't give it a great deal of thought, he was too busy freaking out.

"I need to use the restroom!" he said, a little too high and a little too loud and then he hurried off in that direction, leaving Katie looking after him with a beer in each hand, and an odd look on her face.

xXx

Chuck leaned against the door as soon as he'd stepped into the men's room, and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes there was a stranger standing there waiting to get through. He looked rather perturbed. Chuck shoved himself out of the way quickly, giving the guy an awkward nod, and moved into a stall so he would draw less attention.

For lack of a better place, he flopped onto the toilet and let his face fall into his hands. This was crazy. What the hell had Jill gotten him into? He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his contacts for the number Bartholomew had given him. The door to the stall slammed open, banging into the opposite wall. Startled, he leapt to his feet and yelled, scrambling backward.

"Hello, Mr. Bartowski." A man stood in the doorway, blocking out the light. He was dressed in a nicely cut, gray suit and wore an arrogant little smile as he looked Chuck over from head to toe. Edgar, Chuck remembered, the information that had dumped into his mind during Jill's funeral returning easily.

"What the hell?" Chuck demanded, moving forward to leave. Edgar shoved him back, hard into the wall.

"I've been looking for you, Mr. Bartowski," he said stepping even further into the stall.

"Get out of my way, please," Chuck said, his jaw tight.

Edgar shook his head. His pale eyes had a cold, detached look in them that made Chuck's skin crawl and the anger he had felt initially began to give way to fear. Edgar reached into his jacket and pulled out a cigarette, flashing the butt of a pistol in a shoulder harness otherwise hidden under his jacket. Chuck's eyes darted from it back to the man's face.

"What do you want?" He was glad to hear his voice stayed even, that he didn't sound nearly as freaked out as he felt. As the music started up again in the main room, Chuck could feel the bass through the wall and wondered if anyone would be able to hear a gun shot.

"You know exactly what I want, and you're going to get it for me too." Edgar reached into his other pocket and pulled out lighter, revealing a second pistol.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Edgar chuckled. It was not an uplifting sound. "Yes, you do, Chuck."

"Look, I'm telling you, I don't have what it is you're looking for, okay?" Chuck insisted. He stood up away from the wall and moved to leave again. "Whatever Jill was involved in, it –" He was cut off mid-sentence as Edgar shot forward, shoving Chuck back into the wall, and pinning him there with a forearm against his throat.

"You know what I want, and you're going to get it for me, or your life…" he struck the lighter and the flame bloomed less than an inch from Chuck's nose, "and the life of that pretty little date of yours, won't be worth shit." He brought the lighter closer and Chuck felt the heat of it on his cheek, felt the panic inside him rising, threatening to take over. Edgar smiled and the look was as cold as his eyes. "Do we understand each other?"

Chuck stared back at him, his dark eyes wide but accusing. His hands were wrapped around the other man's arm, trying to pull it away from his throat, and Edgar ran the flame across Chuck's knuckles before dropping it and stepping away. Chuck cried out at the feel of the heat on his skin and then looked down to the still lit flame burning by his feet. He danced away from it, pressing himself into the corner. Edgar chuckled again and Chuck glared up at him, angry and more than a little afraid.

"Ah ah, don't forget," the man waggled a finger at him, "the girl is still between me and the door." Chuck wondered how he looked to the man, because he felt nothing but stupid and helpless. "I'll be seeing you around, Mr. Bartowski," Edgar said and then walked away. Once the men's room door had slammed shut, Chuck collapsed back onto the toilet and tried to ward off the sudden bout of nausea that washed over him.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there with his heart pounding in his ears before a knock sounded on the bathroom door and he heard a woman's voice.

"Hello? Anybody in here?" It was Katie and Chuck snapped to attention as he realized she was coming in after him. "Chuck? Are you in here?"

He stood to his feet and tried to look calm as he opened the battered stall door. "Hey," he said.

She looked at him curiously. "I was starting to think I scared you off. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Chuck said. He looked behind him, saw the toilet and realized what she must think he was doing. "I, I wasn't…" he waved his hands at the toilet. "You know… _that_ … I was…"

"Then what _are_ you doing?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

Chuck sighed and ran a hand through his mop of hair. "I'm having a _nervous breakdown_.


	5. Chapter 5

xXx

The ride back in Katie's car was a quiet one. Chuck was too lost in his thoughts to be much of a conversationalist, and though he knew he was probably blowing it with Katie, the encounter with Edgar still had him on edge. He noticed her taking several curious looks at him but he just couldn't bring himself to try and ease her mind. Besides, what would he say? He was pretty sure any explanation he might give would probably violate one of the very, _very_ many papers he had signed that very afternoon.

She pulled the Porsche into a parking spot in the rear of the building and they got out and made their way toward the hotel. When they reached the stairs Katie seemed to reach her limit.

"Okay, Chuck, this has gone on long enough," she said turning to face him. The light from the stairwell lit the side of her face, leaving the rest in shadow and even in his current state of worry, Chuck took note of how very beautiful she was. "Are you going to tell me what happened at the club or not?"

"I don't know if I can," he said looking into her eyes. He wanted to tell her, he wanted to tell her everything.

"Of course you can, just open your mouth and talk," she said, giving him a teasing smile. "You haven't had much problem with it before." Chuck gazed back at her, completely serious. Her smile faded away and she took hold of his arm, giving him a little shake. "C'mon, Chuck, you're kind of starting to scare me."

" _I'm_ scared, Katie, that's just it. He told me that if I told anyone it would… well, it would be bad."

" _Who_ told you?"

"I'm pretty sure that's part of what I'm _not_ supposed to tell you."

Katie made a face. "Chuck, this is nonsense!"

"No, it's not. Katie, Jill was murdered. That's definitely not nonsense."

Several emotions flitted through her eyes before they settled on sympathy. She moved her hand to his chest, laying her palm over his heart. Her touch was warm and comforting. "I'm sorry, Chuck, you're right. Maybe… maybe all this was a bit too soon for you."

He took her hand quickly, before she could pull away and folded it in his. "No, Katie, it's not about that. My life is kind of a mess right now, but I promise that… when I know what the hell is going on, you'll be the first person I'll tell." He was a little surprised to realize he meant it. His life was a complete wreck, but she was the one bright spot and maybe it was wrong to want this so soon, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "Please understand.""

She took a moment, during which Chuck convinced himself that he'd blown it completely, then she smiled. "Alright, Chuck, I'll let it go for now, but I'm worried about you." She turned and started up the stairs, pulling him along behind her once again. Chuck smiled. They already had a thing.

They paused at the door to his room and Katie let go of his hand. "So," she said softly. "I had a good time tonight. You know, before you disappeared and everything."

"Yeah, can I just apologize for that one more time?"

"If you insist. Dinner was great, your friend – Morgan? – really does have a black belt in dumplings."

Chuck laughed. "The little guy really knows his food, and knows it well," he said, then more serious. "I'm glad you had a good time and, I know I've said it multiple times now but, I'm sorry."

The short conversation was followed by a long, tension filled pause where their interrupted kiss seemed to hang in the air between them, before Katie pulled away ever so slightly. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow, in the continental breakfast line?"

"I'll be the guy hogging the waffle irons." He gave her half a grin and she returned it.

He waved and watched her close her door before turning to open his. The room was dark and he sighed, stepping inside and shutting the door before groping for the light switch.

"Where the heck is that…" His finger fumbled onto the switch and flipped it, filling the room with a dim, golden light. He turned, took several more steps into the room and then froze, dropping his keycard to the floor. "What… what the…"

His room had been completely ransacked. His bedding was torn apart, his clothes and all his things were spread across the floor and, bent over his fried laptop, was the last person on earth he wanted to find in his room.

Alexis White, her dark hair disheveled and her ruby lips curled in an ugly sneer, spun toward him. "Give it to me!" she demanded, stalking across the room. She raised her arms, reaching for him, and Chuck yelled and scrambled backward. Where her right hand should be there was a metal claw instead. It wasn't the usual, utilitarian replacement that Chuck had always found somewhat interesting, but instead it was several sharpened metal prongs that looked decidedly deadly. "Give it to me, now!" she yelled, her face twisted with rage as she lunged for him.

"Aaahhh!" Chuck hollered, his back slamming against the door as he tried to flee. Alexis fell on him and her claw impacted the metal hotel door over his left shoulder with a clang - just missing his head. Chuck shoved at her hard, knocking her back, and scrambled for the doorknob, his hands making several useless grabs before he got it open and stumbled out. He turned to see if she was following and tripped over his own feet falling on his ass as a result.

He was gasping for breath when Katie threw her door open and came running out, still dressed in the outfit she'd worn on their date. She looked alert and ready for anything - an avenging angel, haloed in the light from her hotel room. "What's going on?' she demanded, her eyes searching the balcony. "Why did you yell?"

"There was –" he gasped for breath, his chest tight with fear. "Someone in my room; she tried to kill me!"

"What?" Katie exclaimed and immediately turned and ran into his room through the partially closed door.

"No, Katie, don't' go in there!" Chuck called scrambling to his feet. He went after her but the door shut in his face. He heard a distinctly feminine grunt and the sound of a body being slammed against the door. "Oh my God, _Katie!_ " He tried the door knob but it was locked. In a panic, he patted his pockets but his keycard was still inside where he'd dropped it. His heart slamming in his chest, he looked around frantically and caught sight of Katie's still open door. He ran through her room to the connecting door and threw it open, only to be confronted with the door on his side. He pushed it open hurriedly and stumbled into the room.

At first he didn't see anyone and he thought he'd lose it completely, and then Katie's arm appeared on the other side of his bed, followed by her head as she pulled herself up.

"Oh my God, are you hurt?"

"Only my pride," she said, plopping onto the mattress. "My self-defense teacher said I was ready for anything but that lady was crazy!"

Chuck all but ran across the room and pulled her up into a tight hug. "What were you thinking?" he asked into her hair. After he'd assured himself that she was actually there and breathing, he moved away. His eyes roamed over her looking for injuries.

"I don't know," she said softly. "I guess that was kind of stupid, wasn't it." Chuck frowned. Something about the docile answer rang false but he was at a loss as to how to broach that with her. The woman had just been in a fist fight in his defense, after all.

"I'm just glad you're okay, that woman is not someone you want to mess with."

She turned and looked up at him from beneath those lashes again but there was nothing coy about the look this time. "You ready to tell me what the hell is going on yet?"

Chuck sighed and sat down onto the bed. Katie sat back down beside him. "Jill was involved in something... She — she stole some information from the government and now they, and several other less than savory people, think that I have it."

Katie frowned. "Well, do you?"

"No!" he said, exasperated. He shot to his feet. "I have no idea! And now these guys are going to kill me for something I had nothing to do with. Oh, God, that one guy… I think Bartholomew said his name was Edgar… he threatened you too. This is bad, this is really bad. You should probably leave. I should probably find a new place to stay so they'll leave you alone."

"Chuck," Katie was saying, she stood up and watched him as he paced. "Chuck," she said again. When he still didn't respond she shouted it. He stopped suddenly and turned. "Chuck, don't freak out, alright."

"Too late," he said, running his hands through his hair and making it stick out in every direction.

"Hey, look, we'll figure this out okay?"

"Katie, I don't want anything to happen to you."

"I know, and that's sweet, but I'm not going to leave you to deal with this all on your own. Besides, they already know about me, so it's too late to ditch me now."

Chuck sighed and looked down at her as she stepped in close. "I don't want to ditch you."

"Good," she said, smiling. "I don't really want to be ditched. I kind of like you, Chuck."

He exhaled on a laugh. "Could there possibly be worse circumstances for us to meet under?"

"I don't know, maybe at the foot of a very active volcano?" she asked, ushering him back to the bed and sitting with him.

"Ha, yeah, that would be bad." He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and tossed it onto the nightstand. His hands were shaking. He held one up to his face, willing it to stop. "Pathetic, huh? I'm not exactly the dashing hero."

"Adrenaline does that to everybody," she said taking his hand in hers and giving it a squeeze. "Sugar helps. I'll run down to the vending machines and get us a soda to share."

"You don't have to do that," he said.

"I want to. You stay here and put your room back together, unless you want housekeeping going through your underwear." She nodded to a spot on the floor and Chuck's gaze followed to where a pile of his boxers had been dumped on the floor. He felt himself blush from his neck to his hairline.

"Yeah, good idea," he squeaked and she hurried out of the room. Chuck rushed over to start collecting his underwear and didn't notice Katie rush past the window in the opposite direction of the vending machines.

xXx

"That was really stupid, White. I mean, what, are you new?" The door to the room had been left ajar and Lizzie Shafai's voice traveled easily on the night air. "I mean, what did you expect her to do, ask you to join her for a mani-pedi? At least you would get a discount."

"Shut it, Lizzie." The name dripped with disdain as it fell from Alexis' tongue.

"She's right, Alex, it was stupid. If you had let us know what you were doing, we could've found a way to stall them or something."

"I don't work for you, Edgar," she spit.

"Still," Lizzie said. "It was stupid."

"Yes," came a cool voice as the hotel room door opened and a Katie stepped inside. "It _was_ stupid, White. What _were_ you thinking?"

"Oh, you want to go another round blondie?" Alexis moved toward Katie and Edgar took her arm and held her back. Katie merely crossed her arms and looked back at her with contempt.

"Enough of that," Lizzie said stepping forward. "Did you find it?"

"How could I with you three lurking around?" she demanded. "I'm trying to earn his trust, get close to him. This takes time but it's what I'm best at."

"I'll just bet it is," Alexis sneered. Katie ignored her.

"I'll find the intel _and_ whatever it was that Jill was guarding for Fulcrum, but you three need to back the hell off."

" _We_ are the ones who've planned this," Alexis said harshly. " _We_ are the ones who've been working on this project for the last five years! Now she wants to come in, reap all the glory and hang us out to dry?"

"Don't be stupid, White," Katie said. "If we don't find the Intersect before the CIA or NSA do, then we won't be seeing much of anything, let alone glory. Now, I still have the luxury of walking away, but you three…" She sat primly on the chair near the window, crossed her long legs, rested her folded hands on her knee and smiled widely at them. "Just make up your mind; he's waiting for me."

Alexis growled and Lizzie rolled her eyes but Edgar crossed the room to stand in front of her. "I'll give you twenty-four hours, after that we're going to do it our way."

Katie's eyes darkened for a moment but her smile didn't falter. Behind Edgar, Alexis cursed in anger and stormed out the door, slamming it behind her.

"Well, at least she closed it this time," Katie said. She stood to her feet and went to the door herself. "You might want to pay attention to that. Wouldn't want just anyone walking in, now would we?" She looked each of them in the eye and then slipped silently out the door.

xXx

Chuck was setting the desk chair to rights when the connecting door to Katie's room opened. He swung around, hands coming up defensively, though he was pretty sure he'd be completely useless in a real fight. He relaxed when he saw Katie leaning against the frame with a bottle of Dr. Pepper in her hands.

I didn't know what you liked," she said, waving the bottle gently, "So I took a guess."

"A good choice, though I do tend to lean toward the grape."

"Ew, that's like Kool-Aid," she said, making a face as she walked toward him.

"What can I say, I'm still a kid at heart," he shrugged, his grin widening as she handed him the pop.

"Just drink it," she said with a smile and moved to sit on the bed. He did as he was told. The sugar and caffeine was surprisingly soothing as it hit his system.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

"Much," he said, sighing as he collapsed into the chair he'd just set right. He leaned toward her, offering the pop and she accepted, taking a small sip and then running her finger around the rim.

"So," she began but she was interrupted when the phone next to the bed started to ring.

Chuck looked at it and frowned. "That's weird," he said, crossing to it. "Who would be calling me but not use my cell phone?" he lifted the antiquated receiver to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hello, Mr. Bartowski, this is Alexis White," a cool, feminine voice said through the phone. Chuck recognized the name so he didn't need the clarification she offered next. "We met in your room a little while ago?"

"I know who you are," he said, trying to sound much more confident than he felt. "What do you want?"

"Oh, you _know_ what I want, Mr. Bartowski. You know exactly what I want. Now, tell me, is Franco still there?"

"I'm sorry?" Chuck asked, completely lost now.

"The woman I had that little scuffle with before. Franco. Is she still around?"

Chuck turned and fixed his eyes on Katie. She was watching him. "Who is it?" she asked.

"Um… yeah, uh huh."

"Oh, let me guess, she's in the room with you?"

"That's right…"

"Well, _don't trust her_ ; she's been playing you from the beginning," Alexis said, clearly relishing her news. "She's after the info, just like the rest of us."

Chuck gripped the phone as the dial tone sounded in his ear. Finally, he pulled himself together enough to set it down.

"Well, who was it?" the stranger on the bed asked. "What did they say?" Chuck just stared at her for a moment.

"They - it was the office, they wanted to know if I needed a wakeup call."

She frowned. "That's weird, they've never called me."

"Yeah," Chuck laughed nervously. "I think that girl at the counter has a crush on me." _What? Are you stupid, that was lame!_

She scowled at that. "Who? The brunette?"

"I don't really remember her hair color; you know what, I'm really tired." He yawned and stretched his arms over his head to prove his point. She blinked. "I gotta head out to Burbank tomorrow and see if I can get my old job back at the Buy More."

"Oh," she said standing to her feet. "I guess it has been a crazy day. We should get some sleep." She came forward and gave him a hug and he tried not to stiffen at her touch. Even with the doubt creeping into his mind, she felt good and that tingle of fire still ignited where her skin touched his.

She pulled away and smiled. "And remember, if you need me, I'm just right next door. You can bang on the wall."

"Yeah, yeah, real… real close. Well, see ya."

She paused at the outside door, looking back at him with a little smile. Out of sight, her finger pressed a small sensor to the door's edge. "Night," she said and was gone.

Chuck just stood, staring after her, panic rising in his chest. It wasn't true. It _couldn't_ be true… but it was awfully convenient… how they met, and how she found him, how she knew so quickly about Jill… no, no, coincidence. And, she could've googled him and found his business. He chewed his lip as he tried to think clearly. How could he find out the truth?

Realization dawned and Chuck scrambled to pull his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed the first of the two numbers Mr. Bartholomew had given him.

"Mr. Bartholomew, hi, hi, it's me, Chuck, um Mr. Bartowski," Chuck said, trying to control his train of thought. There was a grunt of response through the phone. "Um, from this afternoon."

"Do you have any idea what time it is, Bartowski?" came the man's gruff voice at last and Chuck felt himself begin to calm.

"Yes, yeah, I'm sorry it's just that," he swallowed and looked toward the connecting door to Katie's -or whoever's - room, which was still ajar. He moved away and cupped his hand over the phone. "I think there's someone else, someone who's picture you didn't show me today. She said her name was Katie O'Connell, but it's not, it's Franco."

"Someone else?" Bartholomew said, and Chuck heard rustling on the other end of the phone. "I've never heard of this O'Connell person. Meet me – where are you?"

"Santa Monica, the uh, The Twilight."

"Alright, meet me at Rummy's on the pier. It's by the arcade." With mocking in his voice he added, "I'm assuming you know where the arcade is."

Chuck rolled his eyes even though he knew Bartholomew couldn't see. "I know Rummy's, I can be there in about 15 minutes." Bartholomew's response was a grunt and the click of disconnection. Chuck looked at the phone. "I just don't think that guy was hugged enough as a child," he said quietly.

At a noise from the other room, Chuck spun around toward the adjoining door. Looking around as if someone might catch him, he moved quietly back across the room, stooping down to peer through the crack into Katie's room. He held his breath when she came into view. She looked just the same, long-legged and gorgeous. She sat on the edge of the bed and unzipped her boots, slipping them off one by one and setting them neatly on the floor. She couldn't be one of them. The very thought seemed completely wrong. She stood to her feet and Chuck started feeling like a peeping tom as her fingers took hold of the edge of her blouse. He started to move away but stopped as the hem of the turquoise silk lifted past her waist, revealing the shiny and very large pistol tucked into the waistband of her dark jeans.

"Oh my god," he breathed and she turned in his direction, her head tilted as if to listen. Chuck clamped his lips together and backed slowly away from the door, trying not to make a sound.

Once he felt he'd moved a safe enough distance not to be caught, he threw himself into the desk chair and let his head fall into his hands. For a moment he just sat there, berating himself for his idiocy. He'd gone from one lying woman to another. Could he be any more gullible?

Setting his mouth into a grim line, he stood to his feet and grabbed his wallet and phone from the desk, shoving them into his pockets. He opened his hotel room door as quietly as possible and crept out, checking the walkway in both directions before heading toward the stairs. He'd just reached them when he heard Katie's door open and he turned to see light from her door spilling into the night. He ran down the stairs and out into the street where a small group of taxis sat waiting. He scrambled for his wallet as he approached the first one.

"I'll give you fifty bucks, right now, if you'll just take off and drive in that direction," he said hurriedly, waving a chunk of his quickly diminishing cash at the driver and pointing north. The man shrugged took the money and put his car into drive. "Hurry up, c'mon." He glanced at the exit stairwell anxiously and hurried away.

Katie reached the bottom step in time to see the cab pull away and speed off into the dark. She frowned, darted an eye to the parking lot in the opposite direction, and then hurried to one of the remaining taxis. She hopped into the back seat and leaned forward, holding out a bill for the driver to see. "Follow that cab," she said.

The driver snapped the bill from her fingers. "What the lady wants, the lady gets," he said and maneuvered his car out on to the street to comply.

Once they had gone around the corner, Chuck stepped out of the shadows where he'd taken cover, his face a mix of hurt and determination. He climbed into the one remaining taxi and leaned against the seat, feeling weariness seep through him.

"Take me to The Pier please," he said and closed his eyes


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

xXx

Bartholomew was hard to miss, even if the restaurant hadn't been nearly empty. Chuck weaved his way through the tables and sat down opposite the larger man with an air of defeat. Bartholomew took one last bite of his incredibly large burger before wiping his mouth with a napkin and fixing Chuck with a thoughtful look.

"Okay," he said, once he'd swallowed. "I have a little more information to give you. First of all, I ran a quick check on the name Katie O'Connell. It's too soon to be conclusive, but so far there's no trace of a Katie O'Connell matching the description you gave me." Chuck leaned forward and opened his mouth to speak but Bartholomew cut him off with a slice of his hand. "Like I said, not conclusive. The other piece of information deals with your dead girlfriend – who I notice you don't seem to be mourning all that heavily." Again Chuck tried to respond but Bartholomew just gave a grunt and continued. "Don't care. Seems Roberts was tasked with keeping something for Fulcrum, something important, something they needed for the – one of their projects. We don't know what it is, but we're pretty certain her crew didn't know about it, meaning they'll be sending someone else to try and retrieve it."

Chuck stared at the other man as he tried to digest that information. "So, Edgar, Alexis and Lizzie aren't my only problem, and Katie – or whoever she is – might be after this… thing Jill was keeping and not the information you think she stole."

"Might be she's after both," Bartholomew said around a bite of burger. "Considering how badly the team has screwed the pooch on this, I wouldn't put it past Fulcrum to send in a Cleaner."

"A Cleaner?" Chuck asked. He didn't like the sound of that. He'd seen a lot of movies and there wasn't one of them where a 'Cleaner' was a good thing.

"Someone who'll come in, retrieve what they need and then kill everyone involved," Bartholomew said flatly. "A Cleaner."

"Okay and why – why didn't you tell me this before?"

"The less you know the safer you are, Bartowski. Find the information that Jill stole and you'll be a lot safer."

"Look, I told you, I don't have it!" Chuck said, falling back in his chair, exasperated. "I came home to an empty apartment. I searched the place, there wasn't anything there except my Tron poster and I highly doubt this Fulcrum – whatever - is after that. Maybe their leader is a big fan?"

"You sure you searched everywhere? You guys lived there for five years," Bartholomew said. "A person can find all kinds of places to hide things when they try hard enough, especially if they're spies."

Chuck just stared back at him with a stunned look on his face.

xXx

Jill had been a spy. Not just a spy but a _traitor_. He'd known that since the first meeting with Bartholomew in that depressing, grayscale office, but it hadn't really registered. Sitting across from Bartholomew at that table in Rummy's, realization had dawned and it wasn't pretty.

Chuck lay awake in his hotel bed staring at the ceiling. The door that connected his room to Katie's – _no, she wasn't Katie_ – was locked and morning sunshine was filtering in through a small part in the curtains. He hadn't slept well, but then he hadn't really slept much at all since he'd seen that picture of Jill stuffed inside a suitcase. This morning was different though. He was staying in bed, not because he was exhausted, but because he just couldn't muster the will to get out. He was trapped inside some kind of nightmare where no one was who they said they were and everyone was trying to kill him. Sure, he'd felt his life was a little boring before, but he'd been happy. Well, not _happy_ , but content. He had owned his own business - working with computers, which he loved. He'd had a beautiful girlfriend and, even though the relationship had been off for a long time, he'd been happy to ignore that. He realized now that he'd been ignoring a lot.

He'd always considered himself a fairly smart guy, but apparently he was a moron.

Chuck rolled over onto his side and readjusted his pillow under his cheek. A knock sounded at the door and he looked up at it warily.

"Chuck?" came Not-Katie's voice. "Chuck, are you in there? I thought we might have breakfast together." His body tensed as he waited silently. There was a long beat before he saw her shadow pass the window and he was able to breathe again.

What was he supposed to do? He couldn't very well hide in his room until they all came for him. He flopped onto his back and sighed. If only Ellie would hurry back from that humanitarian mission she and Devon had gone on. Even though he wouldn't be able to talk to her about his situation, he desperately wanted to be around someone he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was exactly who he thought they were.

As if on cue, Journey's 'Any Way You Want It' blared out from his phone on the nightstand and he grabbed for it, worried Katie might still be lurking close enough to hear. The face on the screen made him smile, despite his paranoia, and he flipped the phone open to answer it.

"Hey, Buddy."

xXx

It was like stepping back in time. The Burbank Buy More had been his after school job, his job while on break from Stanford and his first job after graduating. Nothing had changed about the place since he'd been there last. The wide main isle was lined with ads and sale merchandise. The wall of widescreen televisions was still on the right, and candy and snacks up front where they'd be the most tempting. As usual, neglected customers were milling around, looking for someone to help them and dead center on the sales floor — the Nerd Herd help desk, his one time home away from home.

"Chuck, my man!" Morgan cried as Chuck walked in through the sliding glass doors.

"Hey, Morgan," Chuck said, greeting his friend with a little palm slap, fist bump thing they had been doing since childhood. "How's the Buy More treating you?"

"The same, my friend, always the same, but who cares about that," Morgan said. "How are _you_ doing? I haven't seen you since the funeral, and that — that was an experience. Have you found out anything more about what was going on with Jill?"

Chuck looked at Morgan in surprise before he remembered the lunch they'd all eaten together after the funeral, the one where he'd proceeded to tell them all about what he'd learned from Detective Pierre. He winced. _Crap_. That had been before he'd known it was a possible threat to national security and treason. He remembered what Bartholomew had said about a Cleaner killing anyone even remotely involved and had to push down a wave of intense panic. "No! No. No, actually it turns out it was all just some crazy misunderstanding."

"What? How is that possible?"

"Just… she had those… you know what, buddy, it's really complicated and, if you don't mind, I really don't feel like talking about it right now."

Morgan looked at him in confusion before he said, "Alright, whatever you want," and Chuck felt a wave of guilt for his lie. He didn't usually lie, at least not about anything important. Sure, as a kid he'd often lied when Ellie asked him how his day had been because she'd had enough on her plate after their dad had disappeared, but he didn't really think that counted.

"C'mon," Morgan was saying, and Chuck forced himself to focus on the conversation. "I'm about to take my lunch break. I'll treat you to one of Lou's sandwiches." Morgan started walking and Chuck followed after him. They crossed the sales floor, exiting through the employees' only door, and made their way down a long, white hallway to the back of the store. When they reached the emergency exit just outside the break room, Chuck stopped and frowned.

"Wait, why are we going this way?

"Harry Tang, my friend," was Morgan's response. "I avoid running into that man at all costs."

"Morgan, you _are_ actually on break, right?" Chuck asked, giving Morgan a stern look.

"What does that matter? Are we gonna go for one of Lou's O face inducing deli sandwiches or aren't we?" Morgan demanded and Chuck laughed.

"Okay, and how do you propose we get past the security system?" He crossed his arms as he looked the door over. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Is this the same system I installed six years ago?"

"Yes," Morgan replied gleefully. "Yes it is, and not only do I have a key — don't ask, you're safer if you don't know the details — but Big Mike has never changed the code!"

Chuck's stared at Morgan in disbelief. He knew that "Big" Mike Tucker, the store manager, was one of the laziest men to ever work retail, but even that was no excuse for leaving the factory code in the security system.

Morgan punched in the proper sequence of buttons and pushed open the door. "We can use the key to get back in. Now, Lou's deli here we come. God, have you seen Lou lately? She is looking good. Just think, now when she flirts with you, you'll be completely free to enjoy it. Wait… is it too soon? I don't really understand with the whole Jill thing…" Chuck let him ramble as they crossed the parking lot. At the mention of flirting, Katie came to mind. He pictured her as she had been at the club – dancing and smiling up at him from beneath her lashes – and felt that horrible sinking feeling in his stomach all over again. Katie was nothing more than another lie.

Lou's sandwiches had always been a balm to the soul and Chuck admitted his soul could use a little balm.

The young deli owner was always friendly and always a little flirtatious with Chuck. Her face lit up as he and Morgan approached the counter. "Chuck!" she said, giving him a little wave. "I haven't seen you in a while. Where ya been, stranger?" she asked with a smile. He smiled back but his heart wasn't really in it and Lou winced at the sight. "Ooo, bad day? I guess that means you need a little sandwich therapy?"

"Yeah, Lou, he does" Morgan inserted. "He needs it bad."

"Oh no, what happened?" she asked, turning from Morgan and focusing her large, brown eyes back on Chuck.

Morgan opened his mouth to speak but Chuck raised a hand to silence him. "It's a really long story, Lou. And… and I'd rather not talk about it. Do you have any of that salami?" If there was only one thing to be lauded about Lou's Deli, it was the salami. Chuck could never figure out how hers tasted so much better than anyone else's.

Lou laughed. "Do I have any of that salami? Where do you think you are, a fucking Subway? Of course I have salami." Her smile was playful as she reached across the counter to take his hand. Her touch was nice, warm but there was no spark. "I guess this means you want 'The Wilson?'" she said, listing his favorite 'had a bad day' sandwich. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, much like Katie had the night before, and bit her lip.

"Yes, please," Chuck said. He wanted to enjoy the flirting. Lou was a very pretty girl, with long brown hair and 'large dark eyes. She was shorter than him by at least a foot, swore like a sailor and Chuck found her rather endearing. _And_ he was pretty sure she wasn't a spy, a traitor or involved with any nefarious, clandestine agency or other criminal activity. None of it mattered. Damn Katie and her lies. He'd completely fallen for her.

Once again he'd fallen for a woman who didn't really exist.

xXx

He was in a taxi, on his way back to the hotel, newly re-employed at the Buy More, when a woman on the sidewalk caught his eye. He glanced at her briefly and then did a double take, his eyes widening as he realized it was Katie. She was dressed casually, a pale, silver blouse under a light weight sweater and dark, slender jeans. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail and she was walking with her usual, purposeful stride. Chuck tapped the glass between him and the cab driver and asked him to pull over.

He felt rather ridiculous skulking along behind the mystery woman. His heart was pounding in his ears and he was sure that somehow she knew he was there, even though she hadn't turned around once since he'd started following her. She stopped to look in the window of a small shop and he quickly sat down at a nearby bistro table, trying to act like he belonged there. The table's occupant, a plus sized, older woman, looked up at him in surprise before giving him a pleased smile. Chuck looked at her wide eyed and leaned back in his seat a little.

"No… it's not… I just… you know what…" he glanced over to see Katie moving on from the window. "I'm really very sorry." He stood up and started after his quarry, only to have her turn, as if to head back, and he scurried back to the table, sitting with his chin in his palm.

This time the woman looked at him coquettishly and offered him one of her danishes. Chuck stuttered for a moment and then laughed awkwardly as Katie headed off again and he darted after her.

Eventually, she turned into a small restaurant, designed with clean lines and fronted by large, lightly tinted windows. The name on the sign read 'Earth Salad & Sushi.' Chuck sighed. Of course she liked sushi. He positioned himself so he could see in through the windows without being easily noticed by the people inside, and he had no trouble spotting Katie, even in a room full of people — she stood out to him. How pathetic it was that? Even now, he wanted so desperately to believe she was who she claimed to be, that all the moments between them had been real and not manufactured to lure him into a trap.

She sat down at a table that gave her a view of the door and windows and Chuck shifted a little further back into the shadows. She began to peruse her menu and Chuck searched his mind for a way to find out the truth. There had to be a way. He pulled his phone from his pocket and called information. Once he had the right phone number he dialed and held his breath as he waited for an answer.

"Earth Salad & Sushi," a pleasant, female voice said through the ear piece. "How may I help you?"

"Hi, hey —" He cleared his throat, taking control of his nerves. "Yes, I'm looking for a Ms. Franco. I believe she's having lunch there this afternoon." He was surprised at how well his business voice held together under the stress.

"Hold on just a moment, please, and I'll see if I can find her for you," the hostess said and he thanked her politely even as his heart beat kicked back up a notch.

He watched as the hostess, a lean, rawboned woman with dark red hair, stepped into the dining room. He couldn't hear what was being said but he saw her look around the room and watched with a mixture of sadness, fear and relief as the beautiful blonde woman, the woman who hadn't left his thoughts since the moment he'd met her, raised her hand in response. The hostess handed her the phone and her voice was in his ear.

"Hello?" she said, and Chuck felt all the panic and fear drain away, only to be replaced with anger.

"Good afternoon, _Ms. Franco_ ," he said coolly, crossing his arm over his chest and leaning against the wall behind him, still observing her through the glass.

"Chuck?" she asked.

"It's the only name I've got, how about you?" he stepped out from the shadows and her gaze immediately locked with his. It was a little scary actually.

"Alright, you've got me," she said and he watched her cross her arms, mirroring him. "What do you want to know?"

"What do I want to know? How about who the hell you are, for a start, and maybe why you lied to me? Amongst many, many other things."

There was a sigh from her end. "Let's not do this over the phone, Chuck," she said softly. "Why don't you come over here and we'll talk over some food. Do you like sushi?"

"Yes I like sushi and don't you change the subject! I'm not going to come over there, people are trying to kill me and for all I know, you're one of them!"

She sighed again, and he saw her demeanor deflate a bit as she leaned back in her chair. "It's a public place, full of people, what could I do to you here?" she asked. "Besides, don't you think that if I wanted to kill you, I could've done it long before now?"

 _No_ , Chuck thought, _because you haven't found what you're after yet_ \- which was also why she wasn't likely to kill him in the restaurant. Unless they'd finally realized he didn't have what they wanted. Out loud he said, "Okay," and hung up the phone.

xXx

Chuck slipped the messenger bag off over his head and set it on the floor as he took a seat across from the woman who'd lied to him. She was looking up at him with composure but there was something hidden in her eyes, though what it was he couldn't say. He had no words to express what he was thinking and feeling now that they were face to face, so instead he just stared at her, feeling lost and very, very alone.

"So," she began when he didn't. When the single word didn't inspire him to start a conversation she seemed to search for something else to say. "You said you liked sushi. Would you like to order?"

"About that trying to kill me thing…" he blurted, the look in his eye shifting from lost to intent.

She set the menu down quickly and looked back just as intently. "Chuck, I'm not trying to kill you. Please – trust me."

"How can I trust you when you lied to me?Just like Jill."

"Chuck, I had to," she said, leaning forward and placing a hand on his. He pulled away. "For all I knew, you were in on the whole thing."

Chuck looked at her carefully. "But you _are_ involved in this, aren't you?"

She was very still for a long moment, then she nodded, slowly. "I will tell you what I can, Chuck, but not here. Let's go somewhere more private." Chuck stiffened and she smiled. "I'm on your side, I promise."

"I want to believe you, Katie, but…" he shook his head. "I can't even call you that anymore, can I?"

"Let me pay my bill and then we'll go back to the hotel and I'll try to explain. Alright?"

Chuck merely looked at her for several long moments before he finally nodded in consent.

"Okay," she said softly. "I'll be right back." She stood to her feet and headed toward the hostess, but stopped a few feet from the table and looked back, smiling gently. "Rebecca," she said, her voice quiet. "You can call me Rebecca." With that she left.

Chuck watched her go, more confused and afraid then he had been when Alexis White had first mentioned the name Franco over the hotel phone line. His eyes followed her until she disappeared from view.

She never came back.


	7. Chapter 7

 

Her feet stumbled slightly as she backed into the dimly lit stairwell. She kept her hands raised and her eye on the gun pointed at her. Alexis White closed the door behind them and the click of the lock echoed in the empty space. She watched silently as White shifted the Springfield 1911 from her left hand to the right claw and pointed it at her more intently. It was obvious the claw was less graceful with the heavy pistol, but it was definitely capable of firing it and at this close grange, there was little doubt of accuracy.

"Turn around, Franco," Alexis growled and the woman complied, turning slowly, her blue eyes scanning the enclosed staircase. White grabbed the purse off her shoulder and tossed it down the stairs then she yanked the Smith and Wesson out of Rebecca's waistband. The metal dug into the skin of her back as it came free, leaving a mark. Alexis dropped the magazine and tossed it and the pistol down the stairs like the purse. They clattered obnoxiously over the hard surface before coming to rest somewhere on the landing below.

Rebecca turned back around, appearing relaxed and unconcerned. "Now what?" she asked, giving her raised hands a little wave.

"Now we wait," was White's response. Her lip curled up in a sneer as she leaned back against the door that lead out to the rest of the building.

"Really?" Rebecca asked giving her a sweeping look. "Huh."

Alexis' eye narrowed. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Rebecca said with a shrug as she gracefully sat down on the nearest step, bringing her hands down to rest on her knee.

After that they didn't talk. Alexis kept her pistol, back in her hand now, pointed at Rebecca who sat with her legs curled up to her chest like a little girl who'd been put in time out.

Eventually, noise from the outside world faded and White gestured for her to get to her feet.

"Now walk," Alexis ordered, jutting her chin toward the upward staircase and jamming the Springfield into Rebecca's back.

"Alright, no need to be pushy," she said as she started up the stairs. Her eyes were vigilant, her body like a coiled spring. When they stopped at the final landing and Alexis ordered her to open the door to the roof, Rebecca turned; her voice was as calm as a summer breeze despite the long climb. "If you insist, but the view had better be worth it."

First Rebecca then Alexis stepped out onto what was little more than a maintenance walk. There were no railings or barriers, only a huge neon sign proclaiming the name of the building, and beyond that the roof slanted downward several feet, ending in a ten story drop. Behind them, the door they'd exited was cut out of green metal roofing that angled upward into a rather stunted spire. Rebecca Franco stepped a little closer to the edge and looked out over the skyline where the barest hint of color was still visible on the horizon.

"Very pretty," she said turning back towards her captor. "Nice view, now what do you want?"

"You know exactly what I want," Alexis sneered. "Where is the Intersect?"

"You brought me all the way up here to ask me that?" Rebecca laughed. "You know where it is as well as I do. _He_ has it."

"Yeah? Well, I think maybe _you_ have it."

"Do you?" Rebecca asked, tilting her head to the side. "Then why are we on top of some random building instead of a basement somewhere with all your favorite toys?"

Alexis continued to glower in silence.

"Alright, let's say I do have it," Rebecca said. "What makes you think I'm going to hand it over to you? I have my orders, White, and they come from pretty high up the food chain."

"And I find it adorable you think I care about your orders," Alexis responded. She smiled then and it was surprisingly ugly on her pretty face. "Why don't you take a step back, Franco?"

Rebecca looked behind her. Her heel was set against the seam where tar-paper met sheet metal. "Back where?"

"Exactly," Alexis said as she advanced on her.

"I see…" Rebecca said holding up her hands. Her voice wavered a little and she turned, peering over the edge. Alexis took another step, bringing herself into range and any fear that had been on Rebecca's face fell away. She kicked backward sharply and knocked the gun from Alexis' hand. The pistol rattled across the roof and for an instant Alexis' eye followed it. Rebecca turned quickly, taking just a split-second to settle into her stance before planting a thrust kick in the other woman's chest.

Alexis stumbled backward and Rebecca advanced. White was quick to recover and she grinned up at Franco like someone who'd been longing for a good fight. She held up her claw and her grin widened as two nasty looking blades popped out of the back of it.

"Mmm," Franco said, looking it over. "Fancy."

They circled, each watching the other for an opening. White lunged first, taking a swipe at Franco with that evil looking hand of hers. The nimble blonde dodged it easily and used White's momentum to plant a blow of her own. Alexis staggered forward a step and turned back to the fight, her heels hanging over the edge. Franco kicked out at her again, but this time White caught her leg and brought her elbow down hard into her upper thigh then back handed her in the face. Franco rolled away, limping slightly, and wiped a drop of blood from her lip.

White didn't wait to attack, swinging again with her right arm. This time Franco caught her by the wrist and pulled her in, grabbing a handful of her hair and swinging her around. She slammed White, sideways, into the wall.

"I'm still not quite sure why you brought me here. This isn't your usual M.O. White. I thought you liked torture," Franco said, leaning in and pressing her opponent hard against the corrugated metal. "But maybe that was back when you were _right_ handed."

With a cry of fury, Alexis grabbed the wrist of the hand fisted in her hair and twisted. At the same time, she turned her clawed hand out and it slipped free, too wide and smooth at the base for Franco to get a firm hold. White twisted free and clamped down on Franco's wrist with the metal claw that took the place of her lost right hand, and squeezed. Franco cried out and White jabbed her twice in the face. Franco stumbled backward, over the edge of the roof, and slipped on the slanting metal. She slid a little way before managing to grab the edge with her fingertips. She tried to gain leverage with her feet but the soles of her boots couldn't find purchase and her toes slipped and scrabbled on the slippery roofing. She looked back and down, but all she could see was darkness waiting to swallow her.

White advanced with a mocking smile and Rebecca's head whipped back around to watch her. "You know why I'm not torturing you, Franco?" she asked, smug. "The reason is simple. I'd rather save it all for the _nerd_." She raised her foot over her opponent's face. "It's going to be so much fun watching him squirm."

Rebecca narrowed her eyes. "You're not going to touch him," she said coldly, as she latched both hands onto Alexis' ankle and pulled, sending the other woman sprawling. She clawed her way back up, using White as leverage, pinning her to the ground. She punched her hard and Alexis groaned, her head lolling to the side. Rebecca staggered to her feet and sprinted for the exit but White, scrambling to her feet, was right behind her.

She grabbed Franco's arm and spun her around before taking another swing at her. Rebecca ducked but was forced to move back out onto the roof. Alexis just kept coming at her with that claw. Rebecca danced about, dodging attack after attack as she waited for her opening. It didn't come. Instead, Alexis tackled her, wrapping her arms tightly around her shoulders. The two women struggled for several seconds before Franco broke free, crying out in pain as one of the blades on the claw sliced through sweater, blouse and skin.

They stumbled away from each other, both women breathing hard. Alexis glared with burning hatred in her eyes but Rebecca's eyes were cool, sharp and attentive. She smiled like she knew exactly what was coming.

Alexis charged and Rebecca waited, holding her resting pose until the last possible moment. Alexis lunged and she darted to the side, letting Alexis fly right by. The other woman realized her mistake and tried to stop as she barreled toward the edge of the roof. She managed to keep herself from going over, tottering for moment with her toes over the edge. She turned, on the defensive, but Rebecca was already there, ready.

"Guess you should've gone with the torture," she said and planted her foot in White's chest, sending her over the edge. Alexis screamed, falling onto the metal roofing, rolling and then sliding into the darkness, out of sight. Rebecca waited, seconds ticking by, but didn't hear the noise she expected from a person falling off a building and into the street.

"Alexis?" she called, peering over the edge into the shadows.

"What?" Alexis growled and Rebecca just laughed before making her way to the exit.

xXx

Chuck dug through his suitcase for a third time, hoping he had missed what he was looking for, but he still came up empty. He was simply going to have to face it; he was completely out of clean boxer shorts. Going commando in a pair of jeans wasn't really high on his list of fun things to do but he was going to have to live with it until he found time to do some laundry. He was fresh from the shower, his hair still dripping around the ears and he gave it a quick shake before returning to the search, this time in hopes of finding a relatively clean t-shirt.

He had waited over an hour at the restaurant for Katie – no, damn it, _Rebecca_ – to return before finally giving up and heading back to the hotel. But once he'd ensconced himself in his room he hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. _Who was she_ , _where was she_ and, even though it was possible she was one of a growing group of people who wanted to kill him, _was she okay?_

Eventually, desperate for distraction, he'd pulled out the laptop he'd managed to borrow from his new/old job and set to work trying to see if he could salvage anything from his own laptop's fried hard drive. The two computers were currently taking up most of the desktop space nearby while Chuck searched fruitlessly through his suitcase.

Without warning, the door that connected to the room next door flew open, banging against the wall and his head snapped up in surprise. He jumped, his fight or flight reflexes kicking in, and his arms came up defensively.

"Chuck?" Rebecca called as she burst into the room. Her voice had a worried edge and he thought he caught a frantic light in her eyes as they swept the room, eventually coming to rest on him. He stared at her, relieved to see her even if he had no idea whether or not he should be. She looked him over, inspecting him from head to toe, and that frantic light faded and was quickly replaced by something different, something much warmer. She grinned and leaned against the door frame as her gaze roamed his form once more, this time more slowly. Chuck looked down at himself, nervous at her attention, and realized he was standing there shirtless with his fly half undone. He reached down to quickly – and _very_ carefully – remedy that, and then turned back to his suitcase as his ears started to burn.

"You know, it's usually considered impolite to leave someone waiting like that," he said after clearing his throat. "I had to pay your bill. Thank God you only had time to order a glass of wine. That was the last of my cash by the way."

His comment was followed by a moment of silence. He couldn't bring himself to look at her just yet but he could still feel her there, watching him.

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I'll pay you back."

This only made him angry and he swung around, embarrassment forgotten. "That's all you have to say? What the hell happened?"

She shrugged the shoulder that wasn't against the wall and winced. He noticed it, despite her attempt to cover and he really looked at her for the first time since she'd burst through the door. "I had to deal with something," she said, but he hardly heard her, he was too distracted by the split lip and the faint bruise appearing on her left cheek.

He was across the room in three strides, most of the anger leaking out of him. "What happened to you?" he asked, tentatively bringing his hand to her face. He gently brushed his thumb just beneath the cut marring her full lower lip.

She wrapped her hand around his wrist as if to pull his hand away but stopped, leaving it there. She frowned as she let out a small sigh. "I ran into a friend of ours."

"A friend?" Chuck said slowly, his eyebrows drawing together, then – "Oh!"

This time she did pull away. "Did you see any of them today? Did they try to talk to you or anything?"

Chuck shook his head. "No, actually, I haven't seen them at all. Now that you mention it, it makes me a little nervous."

She gave him a little smile, one that lit in her eyes and he felt that odd thing in his chest sort of purr and relax. Probably not a good idea, after all, she was probably the most dangerous person in his life right now. And that included the woman with the scary claw.

"Don't worry about it just yet," she said. "I'll go get you that money."

He started to protest but as she turned away the words died in his mouth. The sweater she wore gaped wide over her left shoulder and the exposed skin was covered with blood. "Oh my God!" he said.

"What?" Rebecca spun around, looking quickly into the corners of the room. Chuck grabbed her and spun her around to look at her back.

"It was Alexis?" he demanded. "That's the 'friend' you met? What happened?"

"I left her hanging around downtown," she said with a smirk but Chuck wasn't in the mood to be amused.

"You need to go to the hospital!"

"No." She shrugged him off. "Don't worry about it," she said. "I'll take care of it."

Chuck looked at her, his mouth opening and closing on a million different arguments then he crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes stubbornly. "Really? How are you going to do that? You hiding an extra set of arms somewhere that I can't see or are you just really flexible?"

"Excuse me?" She stared at him like he'd grown a second head. _More like an extra set of balls_ , he thought as he took her hand and pulled her into his room.

"Here, sit." He pulled her over to the desk chair and she sat, the look of surprise never leaving her face. He unzipped his other, smaller suitcase and came back with a small, white case.

She looked from it and back to him. "You carry a first-aid kit in your suitcase?"

"My sister is a doctor and she's extremely over protective. I'm lucky I don't have one sewn into the waistband of every pair of underwear." As the words left his mouth he became aware once again of his current state of dress. He cleared his throat. "Now, turn around."

There was the tiniest of smiles on her face as she obeyed. Chuck gently tugged the formerly white sweater away from the wound and down her arms. She hissed at the motion and he whispered an apology as his fingers carefully separated it from her. Once that garment was removed, she unbuttoned her tattered blouse, and he helped her pull it down over her shoulders. Beneath it she wore a beige, lacy bra and Chuck forced himself to look away from the reflection in the mirror. The left strap was severed and she had to hold it up in front to keep herself covered. The open wound that ran across the nape of her neck and over her shoulder blade was enough to keep Chuck from being distracted by the sight of all that smooth, beautiful skin. His hand trembled as he reached into the kit for disinfectant but he managed to control it as he began to gently clean the wound.

"So, Rebecca huh?" he said after several minutes. He needed a distraction from the blood and the way she tried not to wince when he had to poke or prod at her injury. "Do - do they call you Becca or — or maybe Becky?"

Her laugh was a little strained. "No, they call me _Ms._ Franco."

"Mmm, much too formal," he said. He paused to focus on what he was doing as he gently pushed the skin together and applied the first butterfly bandage. She hissed and he bit his lip as he forced himself to stay on task, his hesitancy at causing her pain warring with his knowledge that it needed to be done. "And, um… is there a Mr. Franco?" he asked and she looked at him in the mirror over the desk.

"Yes," she said and his hand faltered slightly as he tried to open another bandage. "But my father doesn't really count."

He let out the breath he had been holding, and went back to his precise placement of bandages. He wanted to laugh at her call back to their first meeting but it only served to remind him that she had lied to him, that she might be lying still.

"Rebecca, _please_ , explain this to me," he asked, an edge of pleading in his voice. "You lied, just like Jill lied. I…" he didn't even know how he wanted to finish so he went back to his ministrations.

"I'm sorry, Chuck," she said quietly. "I had to. I had no way of knowing whether or not you were part of all this. For all I knew you were in on the whole thing."

"So then, who are you?" he asked, a little hurt that she had thought him one of the villains. "What is your part in this fiasco that is my life?"

She pursed her lips and he watched in the mirror as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. He waited. "I can't tell you everything," she said, finally. She looked in the mirror and made eye contact with him. "But I work for the FBI, I'm trying to track down the information that… Jill stole."

"And how can I possibly believe you? I don't suppose you have a badge?"

"While I'm undercover? I can think of better ways to get myself killed," she remarked. "You want to see my passport?"

"Passport?" Chuck scoffed. "What proof is that? Jill had five of them."

She reached back and put a hand over one of his. "I promise you, Chuck, I'm on your side. I'm asking you to trust me."

"It doesn't seem like I can help myself," he said softly. He stood up straight and tossed the first aid kit onto the bed. "There, all patched up." She stood up and tried to look at his handiwork in the mirror but he stopped her. "Wait…" he pressed down the edge of a bandage threatening to lift up and then placed a hand on each of her shoulders. She was so warm beneath his hands and he couldn't stop his thumbs from making small circles over her skin as he checked over his handiwork one more time.

He felt a tremor run through her and looked up, catching her gaze in the mirror. Without thinking, he leaned his head down and kissed the skin just above the place where Alexis had cut her, breathing in the scent and feel of her beneath his lips. He exhaled slowly before planting another kiss closer to the nape of her neck, then another working his way across her shoulder.

"Chuck…" It was more of a moan than an actual word, and his body responded to it, his grip on her shoulders tightening ever so slightly as he brushed the next kiss across the base of her neck. "Chuck, stop," she murmured breathlessly, and he wondered if he only imagined it was halfhearted because he didn't want to stop. He dropped his hands to his sides and withdrew his lips, but he couldn't seem to make himself step away from her. She turned and looked up at him, her eyes a deep navy blue in the dim light of his room. "What are you doing?" she asked softly.

"Stopping," he replied, frowning a little. His gaze swept over her face and he tried not to linger on her mouth.

"Who told you to do that?"

"You did." His voice was rough, little more than a whisper.

"Oh," she said, sounding sullen. She placed her palm over his heart and he knew she could feel it pounding beneath his ribs. She ran her hand over his exposed skin, her fingers sliding through the crisp hair, to his shoulder. "But… Maybe I wasn't done complaining just yet." His eyes snapped to hers, widening a bit, and she smiled. "After all, I have a few more injuries that could use your attention," she said. She lifted her wrist, showing him the ring of bruising there, "Like this one?" Chuck smiled and gently kissed the inside of her wrist, lingering far longer than needed. When he pulled away, she pointed at a small abrasion above her right eyebrow, "And this one." He kissed that too, his breath ruffling her hair as his hands came up to cup her face. "And over here…" she didn't even finish the words before he was tilting her head to press his lips against her cheek.

Chuck pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. "Any other wounds in need of this particular cure?" he asked, one arm wrapping around her to pull her closer while the other slipped into her hair.

Her hands did their own wandering, one cupping his neck, the other pressing into the small of his back. "Just one," she said, tipping her face up to look him in the eye.

"I'll get right on it," he said and he leaned down, pulling her impossibly closer, feeling the warmth of her body mixing with his. Her breath tickled his chin as he lowered his mouth. A loud ringing cut into the moment, jarring him, and he stopped, a millimeter from her lips and squeezed his eyes shut in frustration.

"You should probably answer that," she whispered, but her fingers didn't stop making swirls in the hair at the nape of his neck.

"No, I shouldn't," he breathed, "it's just bad news that's going to ruin this."

"Chuck," she said, pulling back slightly. He opened his eyes to look at her. "I'm not going anywhere."

He groaned and pulled reluctantly away, trudging to the phone and yanking it off the base. "Yeah?" he demanded.

"Chuck," Lizzie Shafai's voice sang, dragging his name out like it had three syllables. "Hey, you know, I'd really love it if you could bring your nerdy little self over to room 204 for a chat. Don't worry, no hanky-panky, I promise. Though I wouldn't mind another kiss like the one at the club."

Anger was still outweighing his worry when he responded. "I can't think of a single reason why I'd want to do that."

"Oh, I can," she said. Her voice was sweet like sugar but with something deadly hiding underneath. "He's about 5'6", dark hair, _very_ impressive beard."

Chuck's eyes grew wide at her description, then Morgan's voice came over the line. "Uh, Chuck, buddy, I can't help but feel like there's a vital piece of information you've been leaving out man. Like, you know – _what the hell is going o_ _n here!_ " His friend's plea was followed by a click and a dial tone and Chuck pressed the receiver to his chest, squeezing it in his fist as panic flooded into his bloodstream.

"Chuck," Rebecca said, moving to stand next to him. "What? Who was it?"

"It… it was _them_ , they have Morgan."


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

Chuck was still pulling a wrinkled Star Wars t-shirt over his head when he and Rebecca approached the door to room 204. She was wearing the _first_ acceptable shirt he'd managed to find, a black t-shirt with the British flag and a motorcycle on the front, and even though Morgan was in danger and the stakes were high, he was still a little distracted by the sight of her. He forced himself to keep his eyes on her face and not the way her body moved beneath his shirt.

"Okay, Chuck," she said and he managed to focus on what she was saying and not his panic over Morgan or how close she was standing. "Everything is going to be alright. I promise I won't let anything happen to your friend."

He nodded dumbly before reaching out to knock on the door. It opened under his hand and he stepped back as Edgar appeared there. The other man smiled. It wasn't cordial.

"Come on in, Mr. Bartowski, Ms. Franco," Edgar said, stepping back and gesturing for them to enter.

Chuck hurried into the room, trying to stay as far away from Edgar as he could. His gaze scanned the room and found Morgan immediately. He was seated in a chair by the window with his hands in his lap, looking both uneasy and somehow exhilarated at the same time.

"Chuck, man, thank God," Morgan said, standing to his feet. Lizzie, who was sitting near him on the bed, pushed him back down with a foot to the chest. She was sharpening her rather vicious looking knife and hadn't even bothered to look up. " _What is going on?_ "

Chuck hurried over to his friend but stopped short when Lizzie raised her head to look at him, her eyes sharp and threatening. He swallowed and turned his attention back to Morgan. "Look, buddy, it's complicated, okay, that's all I can say. Just, trust me, the less you know the better."

"Who invited her?" Alexis White growled, stepping out of the corner and moving aggressively towards Rebecca. Instinctively, Chuck stepped in front of her. Alexis snarled at him, raising her clawed hand and he leaned away, his eyes focused on the deadly piece of metal mere inches from his nose. He felt Rebecca's hand on his arm, giving him a little squeeze and he thought – _oh, yeah, FBI Agent; she can probably handle herself without me getting in the way,_ but he didn't move _._

Instead Rebecca moved to stand beside him and Alexis took a small step back. Rebecca's smile was smug as she crossed her arms and gave Alexis a once over. Chuck was a little disturbed at how sexy he found that smile. "Well, Alexis," she said. "I'm glad to see you had a safe landing."

Alexis seethed, lunging forward only to be stopped by Edgar. "Alright, alright," he said. "That's enough. Let's get down to business." He turned toward Chuck. "Tell us where the Intersect is and we let your friend go."

Chuck looked from Edgar to Rebecca and back again. Intersect? He opened his mouth to ask what the hell Edgar was talking about but Rebecca interrupted him. "You really think we should be talking about this around the kid?"

" _Kid —"_ Morgan started, clearly offended.

"Why don't you let him go," Rebecca continued. " _He_ certainly doesn't have it."

"Then who does?" Lizzie demanded, sitting up now, attentive.

Again, Chuck started to speak only to be shut down by the woman beside him. "I don't know, Lizzie, maybe you."

Lizzie laughed. "Nice try."

"Or maybe Edgar has it?" Rebecca turned to him, looking him over thoughtfully.

"That's ridiculous."

"Or maybe our sweet, honey tempered Lexie has it."

"You're crazy," Alexis responded.

"Well, why not?" Rebecca said. "Maybe, just maybe one of _you_ found Jill, and decided you didn't want to share the glory. Fulcrum is willing to pay a lot to get their hands on this," her eyes darted to Morgan, who was listening enrapt, " _information_. The person who brings it to them will be well rewarded. Why share?"

"Sure," Edgar said, that cold smile appearing. "Makes a whole lot of sense, only – if one of us had it, why would we still be hanging around here?"

Chuck watched and listened to the exchange, his brain working to follow the riddles beneath their words. There were just too many parts he couldn't see yet.

"Because the information isn't the only piece of the puzzle," Rebecca said. "There's still the item that Jill was guarding, the reason all of you were here, guarding her… watching her."

Alexis growled and Edgar's eyes narrowed. Chuck blanched. _They had been watching? Where? How? For how long?_

"Oh, did you forget? Our superiors told me _everything_." Rebecca's smile was wide now and at least as cold as Edgar's. Chuck found himself wanting to take a step away from her. _Our superiors? Right, she's undercover._ "Anyway, you can't very well go back to Fulcrum without it, only you don't know what it is. So you're stuck."

"And you're stuck right along with us," Edgar said, his confidence brimming. "Because you don't know what it is either. Guess they didn't tell you _everything_."

"She's just trying to throw us off," Alexis said. "They've got it."

"I say we search they're rooms," Lizzie asserted.

Rebecca looked over at Chuck, her eyes searching. He couldn't stand the thought of them going through his things, but he had nothing to hide. The most important thing to him, at the moment, was to keep Morgan safe. She seemed to sense his thoughts and she turned back to the others.

"That's fine," she said confidently. "We don't have anything to hide."

"Alright, then," Edgar said. "Let's go."

"And while you're searching our rooms, we'll search yours," she continued.

"Not mine!" Alexis insisted, stepping forward.

"Why?" Chuck asked, finally managing to get a word in. "Are you hiding something?"

Everyone turned to look at her but she narrowed her eyes on Chuck. "Eventually they're gonna let me do this _my way_ , Bartowski," she said darkly, and at her words his mind filled with those images again, the ones where she was standing over the bloodied bodies of the people she'd tortured. He swallowed convulsively. She brushed past him, her shoulder knocking into his. "And I'm going to enjoy it."

When they had left Chuck collapsed onto the end of the bed and let his head fall into his hands.

"Chuck?" For a moment he'd completely forgotten about Morgan. "What in the Verse is going on? This is insane! Who were those people, and who's _she_?" His friend sat down next to him on the bed and stared at Rebecca.

"Morgan, Rebecca – Rebecca, Morgan," he said with a sigh.

"Hey," Morgan said. She ignored him.

"Okay, Chuck, who are you betting on?" she asked, moving to stand in front of him.

"I guess, my money's on Alexis?" he said looking up at her. He felt completely overwhelmed. "She's the one that didn't want us to look around."

Rebecca gave him a soft smile and it was nothing like the one she'd had on during the confrontation. This one made him feel warm and a little more solid. "Alright, you look in here; I'll take Edgar and Lizzie's rooms." He merely nodded in response.

As the door closed behind Rebecca, Chuck got to his feet and started looking around, completely lost as to where to begin. Morgan immediately started talking.

"Man, Chuck, this is like something out of a movie! What is this intersecting thing they were talking about? Is it information? It sounded like it was some kind of information. What do you think? Is it on a disk then or maybe a drive? Where should we look first?" Chuck stopped looking and focused on his friend. Morgan looked excited and intrigued and Chuck knew he wasn't going to let this go easily, but he had to. If Morgan was involved then his life was in danger too, and Chuck wasn't going to stand for that. Aside from Ellie, Morgan was the only family he had, and he wasn't going to let anything happen to him.

"Morgan, listen up, okay? You need to forget you heard _any_ of that," Chuck said.

"Chuck, are you kidding me? I'm not likely –"

"Morgan!" Chuck shouted then took a deep breath. "I mean it, Morgan. Forget everything you heard and get out of here."

"Chuck," Morgan said, his voice calm and more rational this time. "I'm not leaving you here, okay. You're in trouble; I can help. Let me help!"

Chuck sighed. "The only way you can help me, is by _leaving_."

"Nope," Morgan said and strolled across the room. "I think we should look in that vent over there." With those words he strode over to the side of the bed and bent over to look into an air vent beneath the bedside table.

"Morgan, I'm serious about this. I want you to leave," Chuck said striding over to his friend. He was prepared to forcibly put him in a taxi if necessary. He hoped it wouldn't come to that though. Even though he had a foot in height and a couple more pounds on the guy, Morgan was a dirty fighter.

"Look, Chuck, there's something in here," Morgan said.

"Morgan… what?" Chuck dropped to his knees next to his friend and looked through the slats of the vent. There was definitely something in there. Chuck reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. He sorted Winona out of the mess and used her to pry the unbolted vent grate from the wall.

Inside, there was a decent sized briefcase of some kind. Chuck frowned. What they were looking for was information. He expected to be looking for a disk or, more likely a USB drive of some kind, but maybe he was wrong and it was actual papers and things. He pulled the case out and set it on the bed. It was dust free, so whatever it was it hadn't been in there for long.

"Oh Yeah, Booyah!" Morgan shouted lifting his hands in victory. "We won, that's right!"

"Morgan," Chuck warned between clenched teeth. "This isn't a game."

"I know that Chuck, I kind of figured that out when the Shwarma girl held a big scary knife to my throat! Okay?" Morgan said was he walked back into the room. "Now, let's open it."

"No, I don't…"

"C'mon, Chuck, we don't have a lot of advantage in this situation, I think we should look."

"Fine," Chuck said and flipped the locks. Lifting the lid slowly, both of them peered inside, leaning back sharply when the contents came into view.

"That's… slightly disturbing," Chuck said.

Morgan leaned in for a second look. "There's so many different ones. She's like Mr. Igoe… do you think one of them vibrates?"

Chuck grimaced, "And thanks for that unwelcome image," he said as he shut the lid on Alexis' many, interesting attachments.

He was preparing to return it to its place when Lizzie and Edgar burst in through the door. Both of them fixed their eyes on the case in Chuck's hands and practically dove for it.

"It's not what you think," Chuck said, as Edgar snatched it from his grasp. Both Fulcrum agents just sneered at him and set it back on the bed.

Rebecca came in the door as Edgar was lifting the lid, looking tense as a coiled spring. She moved to the bed and looked over Lizzie's shoulder. "Oh God," Lizzie groaned. "It's just White's spares."

Edgar slammed the lid down and turned to Chuck. "We found Roberts purse and belongings in your room," he said accusingly. "Why didn't you tell us about them?"

"There… there was nothing there," Chuck began.

"He let you search his room," Rebecca cut in. "I think that's enough. Why, did you find something?"

"No," Lizzie said, "Nothing but a fried laptop and geek paraphernalia."

"Nerd," Chuck and Morgan corrected together. The other three looked at them with different expressions, ranging from annoyance to mild curiosity.

Chuck looked around and frowned. "Where is Alexis anyway?" he asked. After Morgan's less than subtle announcement he'd expected her to be the first one to show, after all, they were in her room.

"She's searching my room," Rebecca said.

They all looked at each other for a moment and then Rebecca was the first out the door as they all headed to the other side of the balcony. They pushed their way into Rebecca's room and found it empty. It was Lizzie that pushed open the bathroom door first. She went inside and whistled. The sound was shrill as it bounced off the tiled walls.

Morgan was the closest to the bathroom, as the last one in, and of course he had to peek, Chuck went in after him and stopped at the sight of Alexis White's body in the bathtub. Her hands were tied to the faucet and her eyes were open wide beneath the clear water as her dark hair floated, hauntingly, about her face.

Chuck yanked Morgan back, grabbing him by the shoulders and dragging him outside as everyone else pressed in to have a look. His friend's face had gone a pale. "Listen, I need you to get the hell out of here, do you understand? You can't be here, Morgan. Whatever is happening, it isn't nice and it's not going to end well."

Morgan swallowed, nodding. He looked up at Chuck, his blue eyes wide with fear. "Chuck, come with me."

"I can't, Buddy," he said. "It doesn't matter where I go, they'll find me. Just… I need you to get out of here and be safe and if… if something happens to me, you make sure… you tell Ellie that I love her."

"Shut up, Chuck," Morgan said. "What the _hell_ , don't say that kind of stuff. _Don't you watch movies?_ "

He couldn't help chuckling a little at that. "I promise to avoid wearing any red shirts, okay?"

"This isn't funny."

"I know." Chuck gave one of his shoulders a firm smack. "Now get out of here."

Morgan nodded and, with one more worried look at Chuck, he hurried off, taking the stairs two at a time. Chuck watched him go, feeling both relief and a new sense of loneliness. What if this was the last time he ever saw him?

He went back inside, walking into the middle of a discussion he'd rather he hadn't heard.

"The police aren't going to like this one bit."

"There's a pool down stairs…"

"Lights and people …"

"That isn't a problem."

"The water in her lungs won't match up."

"Well you should've thought of that before you killed her."

"Hey, it's not _my_ room."

Chuck's eyes darted from one to the other as his stomach rolled. They were talking about covering up a murder as if it were an everyday work problem. He jumped slightly as Lizzie brushed past him and leaned against the door frame leading into the bathroom.

"Well," she sighed as she checked her nails. "At least now maybe Lexie will get to meet up with her other hand someplace."

xXx

The pounding on the door in the wee hours of the morning didn't wake him up. That would've meant he'd gone to sleep.

"Police, open up."

Chuck tossed aside the covers of his bed. He was still wearing jeans, for lack of anything else. Even if he'd favored sleeping in the buff he would've hardly felt comfortable with it under the current circumstances. He reached for his discarded t-shirt and looked up to see Rebecca standing at the connecting door. She was still wearing his shirt and little else, her long legs jutting from the edge of the black material and tapering down to her pretty bare feet. His eyes were drawn to the expanse of skin and for a moment he forgot what was waiting for him on the other side of the door.

"Just remember to stay calm, Chuck. You don't know what happened," she whispered, quickly reminding him not only of the imminent danger outside but the continual danger around him. This woman was included in that. He nodded and stood to his feet, pulling the shirt on over his head. She was still watching him when his head reappeared and he gave her a questioning look. She blinked and shook her head, before disappearing into her own room.

He took a deep breath and pulled open the door. The bright flashlight shining in his face made him wince. "Yeah?" he asked. "What do you need officers?"

"The detective wants to talk to you, Mr. Bartowski."

"How did you…" Chuck started to ask but then the policeman stepped aside and there was Detective Pierre, leaning against the railing.

"Hello, Mr. Bartowski," he said in that gravelly voice of his. "Why don't you come downstairs and have a talk with me?"

Chuck swallowed nervously, tossing a quick look to Rebecca's door, then he nodded. "Just let me get my shoes."

xXx

The hotel had a small office behind the reception desk that Pierre had commandeered and he ushered Chuck inside with a wave of his hand. There was a coffee pot on the desk in the corner and the detective made himself at home, pouring them each a cup.

"So," Chuck said, staring into the dark liquid as he tried to quell his anxiety. "What… what did you want to talk about? Is there more information about what happened to Jill?"

"Not directly," Pierre said as he pulled the desk chair out and straddled it backwards so he could face Chuck, who had taken a seat on the room's small sofa. "You seem nervous, kid."

"Cops knocking on the door at three in the morning will do that," Chuck responded. He tried for a wry smile but he was pretty sure he failed.

"Well, I'm sorry about that," Pierre said. He smiled back and Chuck blinked. Even though the smile was still oddly cold, Chuck got the impression the detective was trying to put him at ease. He held out a photo toward Chuck. "You remember this woman?"

Chuck took the picture and looked down at Alexis White's face. "Yeah, uh, that's Alexis White, you showed me that picture before. She was at Jill's funeral. I'm not going to forget about her, or what she did, any time soon."

Pierre took the picture back and set it aside. "Do you have any idea who she was to Jill? Was the funeral the first time you'd ever seen her?"

"No, yeah, I mean… I don't know who she is, and I'd never seen her before the funeral, no."

"Were you aware she was staying here at this hotel?"

Chuck took a nice slow drink of coffee, the hot, bitter liquid was fortifying. "Yeah," he replied. "She and the other two have been hanging around."

"Have they approached you?"

"They worked with Jill," he said, relieved that this, technically, wasn't a lie. "She had something they needed, I guess. I told them that everything in the apartment was gone and that I didn't have it but they… seem determined. Why? What is all this about?"

"This woman," he held up the picture briefly. "Alexis White, was found dead in the hotel pool early this morning."

Chuck sat back, schooling his features to the best of his abilities. Here was the moment where he had to decide if he was going along with this mess. The lie came far too easily. "What?" he asked. He sounded stunned to his own ears, and it didn't sit well with him. "What… what happened?"

"At the moment, it seems like an accident," Pierre said, sipping his coffee. "But considering the connection, I thought I should check on you. Did you see anything odd last night, anyone new hanging around?"

"It's a hotel," Chuck said with a subdued half smile. "There are different people here every day."

"You know, Chuck," Pierre rasped, standing to his feet and setting his cup next to the coffee maker. "I can't help but get the feeling that you aren't telling me everything."

Chuck opened his mouth to argue but closed it quickly, the less he said the better.

"I'm pretty sure that you're the innocent party in all this, Kid, but something is going on here and when I get to the bottom of it, _everyone_ involved is going to get what they deserve." He gave Chuck another of those long, assessing stares. "Do we understand each other?"

Chuck nodded.

Detective Pierre reached into his pocket and fished out a business card, holding it out to Chuck. "When you realize you're in over your head and need some help getting out, give me a call." He smiled again and it seemed friendly, but Chuck still felt uncomfortable as he took the card.

"I don't really know what you mean," Chuck responded. "But thanks." He gave a small salute with the card before standing and sliding it into his back pocket. Detective Pierre opened the door and waved him out into the lobby.

Edgar was waiting on the lobby couch and his eyes bored into Chuck as he walked past. Chuck took a deep breath and picked up his pace a little, opting to head outside to the stairway as opposed to standing in wait for the elevator. Once he reached his room, he hurried inside and flopped onto his bed in a boneless heap.

"How did it go?" Rebecca asked. She was standing right next to him and he leapt about a foot and then tumbled off the mattress with a squawk.

When he pulled himself back up she was still standing there with wide, worried eyes. "How do you _do_ that? Are you a ninja? Did you go to ninja school? Was there a class on how to sneak up on unsuspecting nerds and scare them half to death?" Rebecca giggled and crawled onto the bed with him.

"I'm sorry," she said and she reached out and rearranged a piece of his hair. Chuck stared at her. "What?"

"I'm not built for this, Rebecca. I mean, we covered up a murder."

"No, Chuck, we just delayed an investigation. I promise that we'll find whoever did this and bring them to justice, It's just…"

"This information you are looking for is too important, I get it."

"What do you know about it? If you don't have the information how do you…" He looked at her guiltily and she frowned. "What?"

"I can't tell you everything, I signed papers, but a man from DARPA told me. He told me about how Jill stole some information and everyone wants to get their hands on it." He sighed. "That's it, basically. That's all I know."

The frown didn't leave her face, but deepened slightly. Finally she shook it off and turned back to him. "You should get some sleep."

"I don't think I can," he said, giving her a crooked, wan smile.

"How about if I stay?" she asked. She scooted up in the bed and lay down on the extra pillow, her hands folded over the slight curve of her belly.

"Stay… stay here? Sleep here?" he asked, his voice squeaking a little at the end. His eyes did a quick assessment of her current lack of dress.

She nodded. "I don't particularly feel like being alone right now either, and I think your bed is comfier than mine."

"Mhm," he said, lying down on the pillow next to hers. He focused on her face and smiled gently. "Why don't I believe that?" He yawned and his eyes drifted closed but he quickly opened them again because he didn't want to stop looking at her. Her face was scrubbed clean of makeup and a single tendril of blonde hair was curled over her shiny, pink cheek. _I could spend hours looking at her face._ It was his final thought before he drifted off to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

 

CHAPTER NINE

When Chuck awoke it was late morning, sun was streaming in through the windows, and the bed next to him was empty. He scrunched up his face in aversion to the light and looked around the room. The adjoining door was open and there was some music coming from the room beyond. Chuck rolled himself out of bed and went to have a peek.

Rebecca was sorting through her clothing, stuffing some of it into the hotel provided laundry bag. On the nightstand the alarm clock was playing some random station. He leaned a shoulder against the door frame and watched her work.

"I thought you didn't listen to music," he said and she turned, not seeming the least surprised to find him there. Her gaze swept over him and he realized what he must look like. The bed-head alone could be enough to scare her off permanently.

"I don't," she said, resuming her laundry sorting. "It came on with the alarm and it…" she glanced over at him from the corner of her eye. "I just didn't feel like turning it off."

Chuck smiled and moved into the room. "Well, someone who stayed in this room had good taste."

"You like this song?" she asked, turning toward him. Was her expression hopeful? She had a purple, lacy bra in her hand and he tried not to let the sight of it derail his thoughts too badly.

"Um, yeah, I like this whole album actually," he said and she turned back to her laundry with a satisfied little smile.

"I thought that we could do some laundry," she said. "I noticed you seemed to be having a shortage of… things," she said and he felt his ears turn red as her eyes ran over the length of his body again. "And I'm starting to get a back log. I thought we could do it together. What do you think?"

Chuck smiled at her. "I'd like that."

xXx

The fragrance of laundry detergent and fabric softener always brought back memories for Chuck. He rarely admitted it, it not being a particularly manly thing, but it was true none the less. They weren't fond memories, though there was a fondness to some of them, but rather complicated memoirs rife with emotional booby traps. Unfortunately, one could hardly avoid laundry, so he tried to focus on the positives. On the hours spent under freshly laundered sheets with his mother as she told ghost stories. Or the Friday afternoons spent holed up with Ellie on laundry day — after both of their parents had bugged out and it was just the two of them, him trying to make it fun and Ellie trying to make sure it actually got done.

He set his laundry bag on top of one of the washing machines and turned to Rebecca. "So, which ones do you want?"

She looked around the mostly empty room and turned back to him with a raised eyebrow. "It matters?"

Chuck gave her and incredulous look. "Of course it matters, I mean, who even knows which of these machines is going to actually work? Then there's the issue of working properly, odd smells, etc. Haven't you ever done laundry in a Laundromat before?"

"No," Rebecca said. "I can honestly say that I haven't. How am I supposed to tell?"

He chuckled. "Oh, you can't. You just have to go by instinct."

She scoffed and slapped his arm. "You never stop do you?" she commented, setting her bag on the machine next to his.

"Not if I can help it."

The Laundromat they had found, a block from the hotel, was squeezed between a tiny deli and a minuscule used book store. It was small, with only eight top loaders, eight dryers and one front loader that was out of order. It was run down, and less than pristine, but neither of them felt like driving around trying to find a place, they just needed clean clothes.

Rebecca decided to take the back row of machines, saying that she liked to watch the people walking by the window. Chuck didn't really have a preference, despite the way he'd teased her about it earlier, so he joined her, quickly sorting his laundry into the machines next to hers.

He couldn't help glancing at her every couple of minutes. He found her so appealing, and it felt good just being close to her, so it took several of these glances before he noticed what she was doing. Without really thinking about it, he reached out and grabbed the red item she was tossing into one of the machines.

He frowned. "You realize that if you wash all those colors like that, they'll all run together, right?" He peeked into the tub of the closest washer. "I mean, even if you wash it on cold, all the light colors will get muddy." When he looked up she was kind of staring at him oddly. He grinned at her. "Didn't your mom teach you all this?"

"Um," she turned away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He watched as she started to pull stuff back out. There was something, slightly jerky about her movements.

He reached out instinctively and put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you."

She turned sharply and glared up at him. "You apologize too much."

He opened his mouth but quickly clamped it shut, pressing his lips together hard to keep from spitting out another _I'm sorry_. He took a small step back, his hand falling to his side.

Rebecca sighed, running a hand over her face. Her shoulders slumped and she leaned into the washing machine. Then she let out a small laugh that surprised Chuck. "Laundry. Of all things," she said. When she looked at him again she was no longer glaring. "You really don't make things easy, you know that?"

"I'm… I don't know what you mean," he said, saving himself from the frying pan at the last moment. Hopefully he hadn't jumped into the fire.

She sighed again. "The truth is, Chuck, I don't really like to talk about my family." She went back to emptying the washer as she spoke. "It's not a happy subject and with my job, it's easier to keep personal stuff to myself."

"I understand," Chuck said, turning back to his laundry. "I really didn't mean to push any sensitive buttons."

"That sounded suspiciously similar to an apology," she said, smirking at him. He figured the smirk was a good sign.

"Well, I can't really help that, so… not sorry I'm sorry?" He made a face, half grimace, half smile and shrugged his shoulders.

She laughed, pausing with a t-shirt clutched in her hands and letting her head fall back. "Okay, Chuck, how about I forgive you, then?" she said finally.

"I appreciate it," he replied, smiling widely. "And in the interest of full disclosure, this is probably not the last time I'll stick my foot in it."

"Well, I am far from perfect myself," she said bumping her hip against his playfully. "Now, could you please give me back my panties?"

Chuck looked down at the item of clothing in his hand and quickly realized it was indeed a pair of red, lacy underpants. He swallowed uncomfortably as the heat of embarrassment, along with a few other inconvenient feelings, crept over his body. He handed them back and cleared his throat.

"Don't say it," she sang as she took the panties and tossed them back in the bag. It broke the tension and he laughed, burying his face in his hand a moment. "Okay, Mr. Laundry, show me how to do this properly."

It didn't go unnoticed to him that she'd avoided his original question, but he let it go. She didn't want to talk about it. Rebecca was even more of a puzzle than Katie had been, and he wondered if it was just because he noticed more now, or if it was because she was starting to slip. He realized that once this mess was solved, once she found the information Jill had stolen, she would be out of his life as fast as she'd come into it. So, he wasn't going to push, he just wanted to be with her while he could.

"Okay," he began, his smile a little sad. "First, we'll separate all the light stuff from the dark stuff. Now, Ellie, she's really picky and separates everything much more than I do…"

xXx

"Chuck!" Ellie's voice crackled over the line and Chuck smiled, happy to hear her. Her familiar voice was like a balm to his psyche. "You won't believe where I am right now!" she shouted and he laughed.

"El," he said, laughter still in his voice. "Aren't you supposed to be in some third world country right now?"

"I am," she said, "I have so much to tell you about when I get home, but right now, I'm on top of a freaking mountain and I have signal and I want to know how _you_ are doing."

His laugh this time was mixed with a sigh. Leave it to Ellie to worry about him, even from another continent. He had often wondered if she had some kind of crazy telepathy where he was concerned. "I'm fine, Sis. I hope you're being careful down there."

"Yes, I'm being careful. I just feel so bad leaving you while you're going through this mess."

"I told you, I'm fine," he said and took a deep breath. He'd lied to Morgan, the cops and now he was about to lie to Ellie. It sat even worse with him when he realized that, if Edgar and Lizzie had their way, this would probably be the last time he talked to her. "The thing with Jill was all a misunderstanding. It's all worked out."

"So you got your money back from the business and everything?" she asked, her voice fading in and out.

Chuck blinked. He'd completely forgotten about the money Jill had gotten from selling all their things. "Um, no… no, that part is still in progress."

"Well, I hope it works out soon."

"That makes two of us," he sighed, smiling as Rebecca peeked through the door then waved and disappeared when she saw him on the phone.

"Wait," Ellie said, her voice taking on that tone. The one she used when she thought she was on to him about something. He swallowed and sat up a little straighter. "What's going on? Something else is going on with you."

"What? Ellie, nothing — nothing is going on… aside from the whole 'I have no job and no place to live and my girlfriend was murdered' thing. What else could possibly —"

" _You met a girl_."

He choked on air. "Wha —"

"You did! Oh my God you have to tell me everything!"

"I don't… I… she…" Chuck stuttered before finally managed in a somewhat strangled voice, "First I'll have you know, she's not a girl, she's a woman and second, _how in the hell do you do that?_ "

"Where did you meet her? Is she pretty? What's her name?" Ellie demanded in a rush and the laugh that burst from his chest on the last question was completely disproportionate to the moment. Ellie seemed to take it in stride. "Well, _tell me about her._ "

"El, it's only been a couple of days, I mean… I don't know what to say… I feel a little guilty but then after everything that Jill…" he cleared his throat. He couldn't really go into that part.

"But…" she cajoled when he'd been quiet to long.

His gaze darted toward Rebecca's room for a moment then said, "She's kind of irresistible."

"Irresistible?"

"Like I'm the north pole to her south," he sighed, leaning his head back in his chair.

There was silence from the other end of the line and it was only the distortion of wind and the crackle in the connection that let him know they weren't disconnected.

"Like magnets?" he hinted. "I'm talking about magnets."

"Oh. _Oh!_ " She made a little squealing sound. "Chu-uck!"

"No. Ellie, no, don't even go there, okay? I've only known her a few days, and she doesn't even live here, and — and a million other reason why you should _not_ go there."

"I just want you to be happy— Oh no! I have to go. Don't think this lets you off the hook, mister. I'll be expecting a long letter." Her voice was a little more plaintive when she added, "I miss you, baby brother."

"I miss you too, Ellie, please take care of yourself and Devon — and come home safe."

"I will. You eat some vegetables and don't spend all your time playing video games with Morgan!"

He didn't feel the need to remind her that he didn't have a gaming system anymore. "Okay, _mom_. I love you."

"I love you! Bye!"

Once the line disconnected, he sat there, staring at the phone in his lap and feeling more alone than he had before she called. Leave it to Ellie to highlight things he was trying not to think about. He slumped back in the desk chair and looked at the computer in front of him. He'd found some readable information on his old hard drive and the Buy More machine was running the algorithm he'd written to try and reconstruct it.

"Are you going to be at that the rest of the day?" Rebecca asked as she stepped in through the connecting doors.

He turned to her with a lopsided grin. "I'm mostly done for the moment," he said. "Now, I just have to wait."

"What's on there that's so important?" she asked, taking a seat on the bed.

"Only my entire life," he said with gravity and she rolled her eyes. He laughed. "Nothing I'll die without. Just pictures and gaming strategies mostly, but there's also a lot of client information that I can use… if I ever get this mess sorted out."

"You want to get your business back?"

"Yeah, if I can, I mean the last thing I want is to spend the rest of my life making eleven dollars an hour at the Buy More. I haven't even officially started yet and I'm already wishing I could call in sick."

She smiled, and there was that little spark of something in her eyes again. "You don't seem like the type to call in sick when you're not."

He sighed. "Probably not." He turned back to the computer and checked over a few things.

"Is that the same laptop you had in Tahoe?" she asked.

"Uh huh," Chuck responded absently.

"What happened to it?"

"I have no idea," he said. "Virus I think."

"Won't it infect your other computer?" she asked. She had gotten up from the bed, moving closer. He felt her hand on his shoulder and her touch somehow made him feel both calm and incredibly tense at the same time.

"Mmm," he started, a little distracted by her nearness. "Maybe. I doubt it survived itself, but just in case, I've got several anti-virus and anti-malware programs running. Plus a few things of my own design."

"Your own design, huh," she said. Her hand squeezed his shoulder and he closed his eyes a moment. "Are you that good?"

He turned and looked up at her. The fact of how gorgeous she was, or how fantastic she smelled, didn't surprise him anymore, but he kind of wished it would stop affecting him so strongly. He took a deep breath to steady himself before he answered. "Actually, yeah. I guess that sounds like bragging, but if there's one thing I'm good at, it's this. Computers, programming, hardware, that's my thing."

"Well, then I guess I'm not worried." She moved away and he immediately missed her.

"Hey," he said after a long moment. "Would you go somewhere with me? This is going to take a while, maybe even days, and I just really want to get out of here."

"Sure," she said. "Where are we going?"

He stood up and offered her his hand. "There's this place I like to go to think."

xXx

Chuck curled his toes in the sand as he waited. He enjoyed the feel of it, cool on a day like today, and it brought back happy memories of his childhood, most of which involved Morgan in one way or another. The woman in front of him moved away and he stepped to the front of the line.

"What can I get for you?" the teenager inside the truck asked, adjusting his retro style paper hat. Chuck looked at him and thought, _well, at least I don't have to wear that for work._

"I'd like two, single scoop. On the waffle cone," he ordered. Once he'd given the kid the specifics he turned and looked down toward the water. Rebecca was waiting there for him. He watched as she traced her big toe in the sand, the wind pulling her hair from the informal knot she'd wound it into, and whipping it around her face. He'd known before now that he was in trouble where she was concerned but in that moment he realize just how bad that trouble was. Because as he watched her turn and look out to sea, shading her eyes from the late afternoon sun, he realize he felt like she belonged to him. That beautiful and mysterious woman was _his_.

Only, she _wasn't_.

"Here you go, sir," the kid announced and Chuck whipped around to look at him. He handed him a few bills and accepted the cones with a smile and thanks.

"There you are," she said as he approached. "I was just about to come looking for you."

"There was a long line," he said. "You wouldn't think there would be a line for ice cream this time of year, but you'd be wrong — here." He held her cone out to her with that sideways grin, always so readily available to him. "You wouldn't tell me what you really wanted so I was forced to guess."

She took the cone, staring at it for a long moment. "You got me Rocky Road," she said, her voice oddly flat.

"Oh, wow, I'm _that_ wrong? You hate it? Is it the nuts? Or maybe you don't like marshmallows…"

"No, Chuck," she said, smiling up at him with laughter in her voice. "It's actually exactly what I wanted."

He smiled back. "I like that smile," he said before he could stop himself. "That is a real smile. I didn't understand it when you were Katie, but now that you're Rebecca it's obvious."

She frowned and he wished he'd kept his mouth shut. "You see too much."

"Yeah, that's kind of the problem when you get involved with a nerd," he said, as they started walking together. "When we care about something, we tend to pay way too much attention to it." He stopped, abruptly, realizing what he'd said and then quickly started walking again. "Not that we're _involved_ … I just meant…."

"Chuck, that's a bad idea…" she said, turning toward him and bringing their stroll to a halt.

"What is?" he asked, not quite looking her in the eye. "Us being involved or me caring about you?"

"Both." She was grave and there was sadness lurking in her eyes. More things she didn't want him to see.

"Well, you might be a little too late," he murmured, "Because I already do – a lot."

"Chuck," she started to say, but he just stuck his ice cream in his mouth and started walking again, taking long strides.

When she caught up to him he changed the subject. "So, who do you think did it?" When she looked taken aback he clarified. "Who killed Alexis? Lizzie or Edgar?"

She shrugged and took a long lick of her ice cream, saving a drip that was about to fall. "Could've been either one of them. Or even both of them together. She was kind of the loose cannon in the group."

"Well, you're no help," he scoffed and she smiled. "I think Lizzie did it," he said after another moment.

"Why is that?"

"Because I actually think it was Edgar and it's usually the one you don't suspect."

She laughed. "You realize that doesn't actually make any sense."

"Yeah, well, what part of any of this makes sense?"

They continued walking down the beach, eating their ice cream in silence. Chuck looked out at the seemingly endless expanse of water and its presence worked its oddly soothing magic on him. Eventually he stopped and moved toward the water's edge, to the place where the waves stretched out to barely reach his toes. "I just wish I knew what to do to get these guys to realize that I don't have what they want."

"We'll figure it out, Chuck," she said, taking his arm. "Together, okay?"

He looked down at her, and felt that same pull of belonging, that same settled feeling as if she was supposed to be there on his arm. As if somehow, next to her was exactly where he was meant to always be. "Yeah," he whispered. "Okay."

xXx

He stopped in front of the door to his room and smiled down at her. "Thank you for today," he said. "I really needed… to get some laundry done."

She chuckled softly. "Yeah, thanks for the lesson in color sorting. The walk on the beach was nice too, thank you for sharing it with me."

"No problem, I kind of like being around you."

Chuck turned his card key in his hands several times, looking from it to her and back again. She pulled out her own key but didn't move away at first.

"I'm gonna go back to my room and take a shower," she said and finally took a step toward her door.

"Really?" Chuck said with a grimace. "You're going to use that shower?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I just… I don't think I could, you know, after..." he made a motion with his hands like dunking someone under water but stopped immediately when he realized that's what he was doing.

Rebecca nodded with understanding. "Well, not much I can do about that, and a girl has to get clean."

"You could, um, use my shower," he offered. He felt his ears get a little hot when she looked back at him slyly, but stood his ground.

"I'm going to take you up on that," she said with a smile. "I'll get my stuff and come over."

He couldn't help the crooked grin that took over his face. "Okay, see you in a few."

He entered his room and went straight to the bathroom, making sure it was tidy and he hadn't left a shaving mess in the sink. Then he turned the shower on so it would be warm for her. She was stepping through the connecting doors as he stepped out of the bathroom and she smiled at him.

"Thank you, Chuck," she said. "I won't take too long."

"No," he said. "Take your time."

She stopped at the door and turned back, giving him a rather sultry look that had him swallowing convulsively. "You want to come too?"

His eyes widened as his brain scrambled for a response. His body weighed in with its opinion almost immediately. "What? I… Uh…"

She laughed softly, the sound musical and light as she shut the door, leaving him to stare after her in both awe and frustration.

His thoughts were interrupted by his cell phone ringing, and he pulled it from his pocket, quickly checking the caller ID. _Bartholomew._ He glanced up at the closed bathroom door then hurried past it, slipping outside onto the balcony walkway and closing the door behind him. Snapping open his phone, he pressed it to his ear.

Hello?" he asked nervously, unable to quench the sudden dread that had started to coil in his stomach.

"About time you answered, Bartowski," Bartholomew's voice snapped.

"Hey, hey, yeah," Chuck answered, ignoring the slight. "Did something happen? What's going on?"

"Listen, I've talked to every contact I have and I can't find any information on a Rebecca Franco."

Chuck felt his stomach drop. "Well, she's undercover… maybe…"

"That's just the thing; the FBI doesn't _have_ an agent on this case."

"I don't understand…" Chuck said, leaning against the wall and covering his eyes with his hand. _Too much._

"Whoever this woman is, she doesn't work for the FBI. I don't think I need to remind you to be careful."

"No, of course…" He mumbled the words, his mind still reeling.

"Listen, this stranger hanging around you… well, there's another piece of information I have that you should probably know," Bartholomew said gruffly. "These bozos hanging around your hotel aren't the only ones you need to worry about."

"Wha…" Chuck's mind was slow to refocus on the conversation. He was still stuck on Rebecca/Not Rebecca and the fact that she'd lied to him. Again. "What do you mean? What are you talking about?"

"Operative goes by the name of Anderson. No one knows who this guy is, hell, might even be a woman." Chuck blinked, unsure where exactly to slot this information. Before he could make up his mind, Bartholomew continued. "When Anderson stole the information and blew up the DARPA facility –"

"Wait," Chuck said sharply. "You told me _Jill_ stole this information."

" _They_ stole the information. Near as we can figure, Roberts' main task was the deployment of a biological weapon that incapacitated everyone in the building, while this Anderson character downloaded the information and then destroyed the original. The only other copy."

"So, this – wait, really? You only had one copy… that seems… unwise…"

"We're not talking about backing up Call of Duty games here, Bartowski. These are national and international secrets, not things you want laying around on a bunch of back up HDDs!"

The nerd part of Chuck's brain was immediately distracted by several things in that sentence, but he managed to reign it in. "Okay, so if this Anderson guy – person – stole the info, then maybe they still have it and it was never even here in the first place."

"If that was the case, then Fulcrum would already have it and they wouldn't be skulking after you now would they? Besides, we've got a source that swears Anderson is in the area. _That_ is most likely who killed your little, traitor girlfriend."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this before?" Chuck demanded.

"The less you know, the safer you are," Bartholomew said.

"Why do I get the feeling that your idea of keeping me safe is going to get me killed?" Chuck said darkly. "What else aren't you telling me?"

"You listen to me, you little punk, this isn't a game. I'll tell you what you need to know, when you need to know it. Understand?"

"Oh, yes, thank you," Chuck said sarcastically. "That's _very_ helpful."

"Damn straight. Now, if we're done here, stay away from whoever this Franco person is, and find me that damn info."

"Actually, I'm not done," Chuck said. "I… What is the Intersect?"

The line went completely silent for a moment and Chuck thought maybe they'd lost connection.

"Where did you hear that?" Bartholomew all but growled when he finally responded.

"These guys aren't kidding around, they kidnapped my friend, when I went over there to try and get them to let him go, they told me to give them 'The Intersect.' Is that what they stole? Is that what you're looking for?"

"That's highly classified information, Bartowski," the other man said. "I could haul you in, lock you up and throw away the key just for you knowing that name. You understand me?"

Chuck took a deep breath. "Yes. Look, I'm not a traitor, Mr. Bartholomew. I have no desire to betray my country, but I don't have this thing you're looking for. There's nothing here. No Intersect, no… whatever else it is Jill was keeping for Fulcrum, just me, a homeless computer nerd with an empty bank account. That's all."

"You're overlooking something," Bartholomew grunted. "Find it; return it to the United States Government. Otherwise… well, I don't really think you'd like the 'otherwise'."

There was a click and then silence and Chuck pulled the phone away from his ear, snapping it shut. He clutched the thing in his hand as he looked back at the door to his hotel room and then down the hall to the shiny elevator doors.

He could leave, just grab a taxi and get the hell out of Tombstone, but something told him it wouldn't do any good. They would find him. Besides, he had to worry about Morgan and whoever else they might decide to use as leverage against him.

He had to stay and deal with this somehow.

He turned back to his room and thought of the woman inside. She seemed like the biggest problem at the moment. The others had put their cards on the table but she was still lying. Why? Was she this Anderson person? Was she the one who'd killed Jill? Alexis?

He had to admit the thought had crossed his mind before but even though he could feel a curl of fear knotting in his belly at the thought, he still felt that same regard, that same pull that he had felt the first time he'd met her.

He took another steadying breath and turned to face the door. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right?" he told himself. Besides, if he was going to be killed, might as well be by a beautiful woman. At the thought, that fear knotted up tight and his stomach twisted and fell. _Yeah, you keep telling yourself that._

He heard the shower shut off just as he slid the door closed and he finished shutting it as quietly as possible. He hurried across the room and sat at the desk, checking his computer as if he'd been there the whole time. He noticed that his recovery program seemed to be making some progress and it made him smile a little. So, maybe his life was in the crapper, at least he hadn't lost his touch.

The door to the bathroom opened and his mystery woman stepped out. She was dressed in a white bathrobe, tied at the waist. It parted wide at the collar, revealing a strip of golden skin and hinted at the curve of her breast. He cleared his throat and forced himself to look away. No wonder she was able to keep him under her spell. When she was around, the simple fact was, his brain had very little blood to keep it functioning properly.

"Hey," she said, toweling her hair, which fell about her shoulders in damp curls. "I'll come back and grab my things after I get dressed," she said as she made her way across the room.

"Um, yeah, no problem," he said. His voice sounded tinny and false so he tried to add a smile to cover. It didn't work; she turned and looked at him curiously. The part in her robe widened and he had to force himself not to look.

"What's wrong?"

"Huh?" Chuck said, cursing himself. He needed to focus. "Oh, nothing, no, just… this program is taking a little longer than I want."

"I'm sure you'll get it to work," she smiled and reached out to him. He managed not to flinch and then her hand was on the back of his neck and he relaxed into her touch without resistance. "I know what you need," she said. "Food. You are always hungry."

"What? I'm not… you're the one who's always trying to feed me," he said, indignant. He realized that just her nearness, her touch and he'd nearly forgotten that she was still lying to him. _Damn, I'm in trouble._

"Okay, so maybe I'm the one who's always hungry," she laughed. "Where should we go?"

"Some place crowded," he said, looking at her seriously. "I feel like a lot of people."


	10. Chapter 10

The restaurant she chose was fairly small but crowded, just like he'd wanted. It was also at the top of one of downtown LA's taller buildings. It had a commanding view and only one, tiny elevator to get in and out. Chuck looked back at it as the waiter led them through the dimly lit dining room to a small, private balcony. The lone table was next to the iron railing, and he felt a small bout of vertigo as he looked out at the city.

Chuck lifted the menu up in front of his face as soon as they were left alone. The word 'Mafia' scrolled across the top in gold script, didn't feel very reassuring. He wondered briefly how she'd known about this place when he had never heard of it. He opened the menu and looked over the selection. His eyebrows went up as he read.

"Pizza?" he said, finally looking over at her.

"Yeah, everyone loves pizza right?" she looked at him worriedly and he was almost sure it was genuine. "You do, don't you?"

"Yeah, pizza's good," he said ducking back behind the menu.

"Okay, Chuck, those are the first words you've said to me in an hour," she said, reaching over and pulling the menu down. "Please don't make me carry the conversation, I'm terrible at it."

Chuck looked back at her for a long time. Crowded restaurant, lots of people, even if they were a room away. What could she do… throw him off the balcony? He looked over at the railing for a moment and swallowed. He squeezed his eyes shut. "I was thinking about Jill and Alexis White and wondering who was going to be next. Me maybe?"

"Chuck…"

"I don't suppose you know who it is?" he asked. "The murderer?"

She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. "No. Not yet."

He gave a halfhearted chuckle. "I guess whoever's still standing at the end wins the prize."

Her eyes narrowed. "I suppose."

"Mmm," Chuck said. He picked up his water and took a nervous drink.

"Are you trying to say you think _I_ killed them?" she asked. "I don't understand you, one minute you're buying me ice cream on the beach and now you're accusing me of murder? Of treason?" She was angry now, and it flowed off her in waves. Chuck's eyes widened but he didn't back down. Fine, she was mad but he wasn't the one lying.

"The FBI has never heard of Rebecca Franco," he said. "In fact, they don't even have an agent on this case." The truth of his words flared in her eyes for a split second before she managed to make herself unreadable again.

"Who told you that?"

"I can't tell you."

"Convenient."

"I'm not the one lying about who they are," Chuck insisted, tapping his fingers against the table top. "Don't try and deny it. I saw it in your eyes."

She huffed out a breath through her nose. "You see too much."

"So you've told me."

She stared off into the night for a long time, and Chuck could feel the weight of her silence pressing in on him. She was beautiful to him, even now, when he had never been less certain of her. The curve of her cheek, the straight slope of her nose, and the way her lips tuned down at the corners when she got serious. When she turned back her eyes were oceans of sadness and frustration. "I can explain it… if you'll let me."

"Well, I don't have any place to go," he responded. "I might was well stay and have pizza. This time you're paying, so, if you wanna talk, I might as well listen." He watched as a little smile tugged at the corner of her lips and wondered why he still felt compelled to put her at ease.

He watched as she rubbed her upper arm, her thumb briefly circling the skin of her shoulder. She looked away and then back to him, her lip pinched between her teeth. Was she trying to gather her courage or was she just trying to sell her newest lie?

"I didn't really have what you would call a normal childhood," she started softly. "My mom, she… she had some problems, so I was mostly raised by my dad." There was a small smile before she opened her mouth to continue. She was interrupted by the waitress.

"You guys decided on anything?"

"Large Deluxe and a pitcher of beer," Chuck said absently, his eyes fixed on the woman across from him. The waitress looked to her and she nodded her agreement. When the waitress left, her demeanor had changed. She relaxed into her chair a little and brought her hands to rest on the table top.

"Now, my dad wasn't exactly what you would call a hard worker, but he had a very particular set of skills."

"Skills that make him a nightmare for people like me?" Chuck asked. At her blank response, he smoothed his hand awkwardly over his chest and took a drink of water. "Never mind."

She laughed a little, looking at him. "Not anything like that… though I have a feeling that was another one of those useless nerd quotes you warned me about."

He gave her a nervous grin. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. Please, go on."

"Well, my dad's talents involved tracking down people who had more money than they knew what to do with and… er… helping them part with it."

"What?" Chuck questioned, leaning forward. "Wait… your dad is a _con-man_?"

She nodded slowly, her mouth twisting to the side. "Eventually, the law caught up with him. He went to jail and I… sort of… took over the family business."

"You're a con _…_ _You're a con-woman_?" His response had started at a shout before he'd managed to bring it down to a hoarse whisper.

"We prefer con- _artist_ ," she said smoothly. "But, yes."

He slumped back in his seat. "I don't believe it!"

Her mouth curved into a sad smile. "I can't really blame you, now can I?" She sounded resigned.

"No, but I _do_ believe it, that's what I don't believe," Chuck exclaimed. He stared at her for a long moment. God help him, he really did believe her. He shook his head. "But, what does a con-wo – con-artist – want with government information?"

"That information is worth a lot of money, Chuck. If I got my hands on it first, I could probably get enough to go off grid for a long while. Take a nice, long break. I could use it." When she looked at him, her eyes looked weary and he believed that too.

"You can't sell this information to just anyone," Chuck said. "That's not –"

"Chuck, please," she said, tipping her head to the side and giving him a slanted smile. "I'm not a traitor."

"And what if they decided to kill you instead?" he asked, leaning forward.

"Unlikely. It's quicker and easier if they pay," she took a sip of her water. "Happens all the time."

Chuck sighed and leaned back in his chair again. He crossed his arms over his chest and just looked at her. He knew he shouldn't trust her, that she was probably dangerous, had possibly killed two people with in the last week and was probably planning on killing him as well, but no matter how he tried he couldn't shake that feeling he always had when she was near. The feeling that a piece his life's puzzle had been slipped into place.

"So," he said finally. Her eyes hadn't left his face as he'd mulled things over and he was sure he saw relief as a small smile turned up the corner of his lips. "So, what's your name this time? Deanna? Aeryn? Leia? Tell me it's Leia."

She looked at him like he was speaking Klingon. "No, actually, it's Jenny. Jenny Burton."

"Jenny – suddenly I really miss Rebecca," Chuck said.

"Oh, thanks!" She laughed.

He chewed his lip a moment. "Is there a Mr. Burton?"

"Well…" she began.

Chuck joined in before she even really got started, "not unless we count your father… yeah yeah. Somehow, I think I've heard this before."

"Chuck," Jenny said, softly.

The waitress chose that moment to arrive with their pizza and they both thanked her distractedly. When she was gone, Chuck stood to his feet and moved to the railing. He leaned his arms against it and stared out to where the horizon was lost in the smog. A moment later she was next to him, her shoulder touching his.

"Pizza's getting cold."

"So, I was just a con, you've been playing me from the start." It wasn't a question, and he didn't look at her as he spoke the words. It made sense to him, they had come together so easily, of course it wasn't real.

There was a hesitation and a long exhalation of breath before she answered. "At first, yes. I figured you were the key to the whole thing, but then…"

He looked at her, watching her profile in the dim light. "But then what?"

She looked back at him with a sad, half smile. "You really don't see it? You see everything else."

He frowned. "What don't I see?"

She turned so they were facing each other and looked up at him. "That I'm having a really difficult time keeping my hands off of you."

"I – what?" His voice was low, uncertain as he felt his heart beat pick up and his temperature shoot up a few degrees.

"You heard me," she said, her hand smoothing up his chest to his shoulder. "It's a real blow to my ego, you know, falling for a mark. It's terribly clichéd, but when I'm with you… I don't know, I feel more like myself than I ever have before. God, listen to me, I'm not even making any sense."

"No," he said, his hand slipping around her waist and pulling her in closer. The thrill of her pressed against him was as vibrant as the first time and he pressed his forehead to hers and breathed her in. "It makes complete sense to me."

Her hands caressed his neck, sliding into his hair and twisting in the curls. His hand came up to cup her face, his thumb caressing her cheek as he ran the tip of his nose down the bridge of hers. He paused just before their lips would meet, looked at her through lowered lids and waited. After several moments, long delicious moments of feeling her rib cage expand and contract beneath his palm and her fingers dancing along the nape of his neck, she opened her eyes and he could see the startling blue of them, flecked with shadow and light.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, and her breath feathered over his lips.

"I'm waiting."

"What are you waiting for?"

"Who, or whatever is going to interrupt us this time," he said, smiling.

"Chuck," she sighed, insistent.

"Hmm?"

She wiggled a little against him, fisting her hands in his shirt. " _Kiss me_."

It was an order, and his smile widened as he moved in, pausing one more time just in case before he brushed his lips against hers. Once, twice he teased her with whisper kisses, as his hand slid into her hair, cradling her head in his palm. She leaned up, chasing his mouth and he pulled back, taunting her before finally bringing his mouth back to hers and kissing her fully. Her lips parted under his and he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping in to touch hers. She reciprocated aggressively, pulling him in, her tongue warring with his for dominance.

When Chuck pulled away to catch his breath, he ran his thumb over her lower lip, tugging gently at the soft flesh. "How do I know this isn't just a line? To keep me close and under control? How do I know I can trust you?"

"You can't know," she said, her hands still fisted in his shirt, her body still pressed tightly against his. "But how is that any different from every day? Look at Jill. You knew her for seven years. Anyone we meet — anywhere, any time — could be lying to us. For all I know, _you_ are the mastermind behind this entire mess, but it doesn't matter."

He frowned. "You really think that I –"

She pressed her fingers against his lips, her gaze focused on his mouth a moment before returning to his eyes. "It doesn't matter."

"Why?"

"Because I'm through resisting you," she said and then she was kissing him again, heated, deep and hungry. He moaned low in his throat as he lost himself in that kiss, in her. It was only when the sound of someone clearing their throat — loudly — broke through the fog of need that he remembered where they were and that, though the balcony was secluded, it offered very little actual privacy.

"I'm guessing you'll want a box for the pizza then," the waitress said, amused when they finally turned to her, both of them mussed.

Chuck started to nod but Jenny grabbed his hand. "Actually, we've decided we aren't that hungry after all," she said, before pulling him toward the exit.

xXx

When the lock finally disengaged and the door opened, Chuck and Jenny spilled into the room, falling to the floor still attached at the lips. He moaned as he hit the floor with her on top and she laughed softly, pulling away from his lips to pepper soft kisses across his jaw. He worked to maneuver them into the room so the door could close. Once he finally kicked it shut with his foot, he rolled them over, burying his face into her neck and sucking lightly at the flesh below her ear.

"Key," she said breathlessly against his temple and he realized he'd dropped the key outside. He groaned a curse against her skin and pulled away, scrambling to his feet and for the door. He yanked it open and snatched up the key, barely getting it into his pocket before she was pulling him back inside. When he turned she was right there, her hands reaching for him, fisting in his hair and pulling him close. She pressed him against the door and attacked his mouth, pulling his lower lip between hers, sucking on it before biting it gently.

They stumbled awkwardly into the room, each refusing to release the other, as they explored with hands and mouths and clashing tongues. Her hands tugged at his shirt, pulling it up to reveal his chest and she pressed herself against his bared torso. The feel of her satiny blouse against his skin was startlingly erotic and he gasped before moaning against her lips. At her insistent tugs, he pulled away just long enough to yank the t-shirt off over his head and toss it aside before she was on him again, her hands on his cheeks as she licked into his mouth.

He grabbed her hips and pulled her body in tighter against his, pressing into the space between her hips. His lips moved along her jaw, tasting her vanilla flavored skin and she made a desperate little noise in the back of her throat that almost drove him over the edge. He pressed an open mouth kiss at the side of her throat, breathing in that citrusy sweet scent that had been haunting him. "You smell so good," his voice rumbled over her skin and she whimpered, her hands flexing on his shoulders, nails scraping his skin.

His hands found the hem of her blouse and slipped beneath it, his palms running over the expanse of warm, silky skin. She made a frustrated little noise and pulled away and he felt the loss of her like a slap. He started to reach for her, pull her back but then she yanked her blouse off over her head and all he could do was stare. The length of her neck and the shadow of her collarbone beneath her creamy skin, the caress of black lace against the perfect curve of her breast, the lines of her toned stomach disappearing into the waistband of her jeans, all held him mesmerized.

"God you're beautiful," he said, his voice reverent as if it were a sacred prayer. She took a small step toward him and it broke the spell. He closed the distance between them in one step. Wrapping one arm around her waist and the other around her hips, he lifted her up so he could press his face between her breasts and taste the skin there.

"Chuck," she sighed as he kissed along the lacy edge of her bra and sucked at the hollow of her throat.

He carried her several feet and leaned her against the wall, holding her there with the length of his body pressed to hers. She hissed in pain as her shoulder hit the wall, and the sound yanked him from the haze of need that enveloped him; he pulled back, looking at her with concern. "Oh, God," he said breathlessly, "Your back. I'm sorry I—" She shook her head, took his face in her hands and pulled him back to her, silencing him with her lips. She wrapped her legs around his hips and kissed him hard, her fingers in his hair, caressing his scalp and setting his whole being on fire. He kissed her back, forgetting everything else but the taste of her on his tongue.

He groaned when she dropped her feet to the floor and pushed him away, but he heeded her gentle shove, gasping for breath. She looked up at him, her eyes shining with desire, lips swollen from his kisses and all he could do was watch hungrily as she reached behind her and unclasped her bra. She tossed the lacy garment across the room and he swallowed in an attempt to control the heat that blazed in his belly, pulling his skin tight and making his heart pound beneath his ribs. Chuck forced himself to take a moment to drink her in.

When his gaze reached her face, he found her vulnerable, more so than he had ever seen her. His heart pinched tight in his chest, and he knew he was more than a little in trouble where she was concerned, he was in love with her. He took a deep breath, refusing to freak out, and forced a smile. "Well, hello ladies," he quipped, and the vulnerable light left her eyes and she laughed as she playfully shoved him onto the bed.

She crawled on top of him, kissing her way up his chest to his neck and her hands explored his skin as she kissed under his jaw and beneath his ear. "God, Jenny," he moaned, his hands ghosting over her ribs and back. She hesitated for the briefest of moments, her breath huffing across his collar bone and he thought, _shit, that's not her real name either_ , then her mouth was on him again, those exploring hands of hers sliding beneath the waistband of his boxers and, for the moment, he stopped caring about her name.

xXx

Chuck fell back onto the carpet and Jenny collapsed against his chest, both of them sweating and out of breath. She dragged her nails down his skin as she pressed her face into his shoulder.

"What the _hell_ was that?" she demanded and he wanted to answer, he really did, but he wasn't sure he still remembered how to talk and even if he did, he wasn't sure he knew the words that would describe whatever had just happened between them.

She pulled herself up and kissed him again, and he cradled her head as he kissed her back, still so hungry for her, even though his body had nothing left to give. After several long moments, she pulled away and flung herself out beside him.

"God, I'm hungry!" she said and he tossed his head back and laughed. She slapped his chest with the back of her hand and he rolled onto his side, propping his head on his hand.

"I guess you should've let that nice waitress box our pizza."

"Shut up."

He leaned over her, purposefully pressing his body against hers as he tried to get a look at the clock. It had been knocked off the table at some point and now hung by its cord, flashing '12:00' at the floor. "I think there might be a pizza place still open… somewhere."

"Ew," she laughed, pushing at his shoulders. "Get off, you're all sweaty."

"You weren't complaining a minute ago when you were lying on top of me."

"That was before the sweat started to cool." She made a face and he laughed, kissing her between her furrowed brows.

"I'll be right back," he said, pulling himself to his feet and heading for the bathroom.

Once he'd dealt with the things that needed dealt with, he slipped on a pair of sweat pants he'd left hanging on the back of the door and took a moment to look at himself in the mirror. His hair was crazy and his face was lit up with a goofy smile. He didn't really care. His body felt completely relaxed, sated, but his mind was remarkably clear.

He knew two things. One: he was pretty much in love with a woman who had lied to him multiple times and whose actual name he didn't even know, but he didn't care because she had told him the truth in other ways and he was going to hold on to those. Two: he had to stop waiting around for things to be fixed. If he wanted a real life back, if he wanted to move forward from here, he was going to have to take this head on. He wasn't sure how, but he was ready to try.

When he opened the door, Jenny was standing there, still delightfully naked. She had two bottles of water in her hands and she held one out to him. She looked him over and frowned.

"Why the hell are you wearing pants?"

He laughed as he took the water. "I'm not as pretty naked as you are," he responded.

She reached down and slipped a finger into the waistband of his sweats and peeked inside. "I guess we'll have to agree to disagree on that," she said and just like that his moment of clarity evaporated.

"You, on the other hand, should never be allowed to wear clothes," he growled, leaning into kiss her. She dodged away with a laugh.

"Oh, really?" she said, walking away from him, and this time she did sashay. "You think I should go everywhere, just like this?" She looked coyly back at him, over her shoulder.

"Let me make and addendum to that," he said, scurrying across the room after her and tackling her to the bed.

She laughed and then kissed him, her hands gripping his shoulders as she rolled him onto his back.

"Owowowow," he said sharply and she leaned away looking down at him with worry. He fished around in the blankets for whatever had stabbed him and eventually came back with an ankle holster and a stray knife. He looked at them, vaguely remembering when he'd found them strapped to her leg. The knife was solid metal, with three symmetrical holes in the handle portion. She grabbed it from him quickly, laughing.

"Sorry," she said, "I could've sworn we tossed those somewhere else."

"They're very… nice… nice workmanship…"

She laughed and tossed them aside. When she looked back, she was biting her lip nervously. "So… Weirdest thing to ever happen to you during sex?"

"Finding knives strapped to a woman's leg?" he reiterated. "No... Sexiest?" He squinted his eyes thoughtfully. " _Possibly_ … the gun on the other hand..." she kissed him mid-sentence and he cupped her face, kissing her back.

"Now," she said, wiggling down his body. "Let's see what we can do about these pants."

xXx

He was cold.

Chuck shuffled around for the blankets, as a cool draft drifted over his skin. His hands groped uselessly at the bed beside him and awareness seeped into his brain as he realized it was empty. He reluctantly cracked open an eye and peered around. Jenny was gone? He sighed, disappointed, but then he heard a door open and close. A light flooded from the bathroom doorway, gone almost as quickly as it appeared, and she was there, shuffling across the room and climbing in beside him.

Her toes brushed his leg and he hissed. "You're freezing," he whispered.

"Then get over here and warm me up," she whispered back, and she wound her fingers into his hair as she pressed her body and her lips to his.


	11. Chapter 11

In Chuck's opinion, morning was an alright time of day. It was fresh, anything could happen, and there was something special about that first cup of morning coffee. He'd had plenty of really great mornings, but this one… this one was beyond compare.

It had started out with a beautiful, sleepy and very naked woman lying half on top of him, and it had continued with deep, unhurried kisses and _sex_ – really incredible, slow and _deliberate_ sex.

"You know what would make this morning more perfect?" he asked, breathless as he pulled her up against his side.

"Mmm, pastries?" she murmured, nuzzling into his neck and kissing the underside of his jaw.

"Pastries? Really?" he laughed. "You really are perpetually hungry. I was going to say _nothing_." He kissed her forehead and wrapped his arms around her a little tighter. He groaned. "I don't want to move… but if you're hungry, I guess –"

A loud knocking at the door interrupted him and both of them sat up quickly, first looking at the door, then at each other before scrambling out of bed and hustling into some clothes. Jenny darted for the door, still doing up the button of her jeans and Chuck scrambled after her, still shirtless.

He reached for the doorknob but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. He looked back at her with a questioning frown and she stared back with a commanding one of her own. He watched as she sidled up to the peephole before looking out.

"It's the police," she whispered very softly.

"Oh God, someone else is dead," he replied, not even questioning it. His stomach dropped.

"Be careful what you say," she warned, placing her hand on his arm again. He looked at her face, studying her, his head filling up with more questions but he just nodded in response and she slid her fingers into his hand and gave it a squeeze.

There was another insistent knock and he unlocked the door, pulling it open to reveal the stern face of Detective Pierre.

"Mr. Bartowski."

Chuck steeled himself, swallowing quickly. "Detective Pierre!" he said. "What are you… what's going on?"

The detective tipped his head to the side, giving Chuck an intent look before he opened his mouth to speak. He closed it immediately when Jenny poked her head out.

"Yeah, is everything alright?" she asked, and Chuck couldn't stop himself from staring at her when he heard her speak. She'd adopted a younger sounding, girlish affectation. It wasn't over done but it still threw him completely.

Detective Pierre looked at her with his eyes narrowed slightly. "In fact, no," he said, "I'm afraid there's been another murder."

Chuck didn't really have to fake his reaction, even though he'd suspected it, it was still a shock to have his suspicions confirmed.

"May I ask where either of you were last night?"

"Well, we went out for dinner… Mafia Pizza… then, um, here?" Chuck said, and he felt Jenny pat his back gently. She started making soft circles and he felt himself relax a little.

"Here, where? Here in your room?"

"Yeah."

"Both of you?"

Chuck nodded. He could feel a slight blush creeping over his shoulders, but at the same time he wasn't embarrassed, at least not about what he'd spent the night doing, or who he'd been doing it with. He just wasn't a big fan of announcing his personal life to other people.

"All night?" Pierre asked, stressing the 'all.'

"Yes, officer," Jenny said. Chuck watched as she bit her lip and looked down at the ground shyly. He frowned a little; she was most definitely not shy.

"Who… who died?" Chuck asked. There were two people at the top of his suspected list, but there were even worse possibilities.

"The guy in room 205," Pierre said. "A man who showed up at your girlfriend's funeral." As he said girlfriend, his eyes flicked to Jenny and back again. "Another one from the funeral. Tell me, Mr. Bartowski, do you remember anything unusual about last night? See or hear anything unusual?"

"No, no, we didn't really see anything…" Chuck said, rubbing the back of his neck. He'd had his lips, and as much of the rest of him as possible, attached to Jenny.

The detective took another long look at Jenny and then turned back to Chuck. "I'd like to speak to you a moment in private," he said. Chuck looked down at Jenny and she smiled up at him. It would probably fool most people but to him it was a completely empty smile. The walls were up. _She doesn't want to leave me alone with him_. The thought worried him, but before he had a chance to dwell on it she was kissing his cheek and whispering in his ear.

"I'll be right next door."

He stepped back and let Detective Pierre into his hotel room. They both watched as Jenny slipped through the connecting doors, and Chuck took the opportunity to slip on a t-shirt.

Pierre turned to Chuck. "I'm starting to be a little concerned about your safety, son," he croaked, the rasp of his voice more pronounce in the early hours of the morning.

"What do you mean?" Chuck asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Pierre stood, hands on hips and gave him a penetrating look. "You think you have this all under control, but how long do you really think that's going to last?" he queried. "Alexis White, was murdered. Autopsy showed the water she drowned in was too low in chlorine to be pool water. Now, there's this guy, tied to the bed with a bag over his head. The other woman who was staying here, the other one that was at Jill's funeral? She's gone. So, what's going on here, Chuck? I gave you slack last time because I like you, and I genuinely believe you didn't kill your girlfriend, but if you don't tell me what's going on, I may have to take you in for obstructing my investigation."

Chuck gaped back at him and then swallowed. What would be enough to get this guy off his back without getting him killed or sent to prison for treason? "Look, detective… I wish I could help you, but the truth is, I don't really have any idea what's going on. Those people, they wanted something of Jill's, something that I don't have. Just like I told you last time, that's _all_ I know."

"What was it they think you have again?"

Chuck's mind went blank for the briefest of moments and then it came to him like a pinpoint of light in the darkness. "The money," he lied. "The money from everything that Jill sold. They say she owed it to them."

There was a flicker of something that passed over Pierre's face but it was gone before Chuck had even fully registered it. "The 250,000?"

Chuck nodded. "But I have no idea what Jill did with the money. I wish I did."

Pierre sighed and his posture relaxed a little. "Well, then, I'll have my guys keep an eye out for the third one. You be careful, Kid, and call me if things get sticky." Chuck nodded in response, though he had no intention of calling the man, and shook his offered hand.

Once Pierre was gone, Jenny came into the room. "Edgar," he spouted the moment he saw her. In spite of the horror of it and the anxiety over the immediate future, Chuck felt a guilty sense of relief. "Edgar's the one who's dead so it's Lizzie… Lizzie has the Intersect."

"It looks that way," Jenny said. "And I checked her room; she's long gone. Damn it."

"Worried about your vacation plans?" he asked, disapproval sneaking into his voice.

"No!" She turned away and exhaled a long slow breath. "Okay, yeah, but I'm more worried about the bad guys having potentially dangerous information," she whispered emphatically when she'd turned back.

Chuck looked at her seriously. "God, I wish I could believe you."

The anger left her eyes and her mouth twisted up into a sad, half smile. "Me too."

The phone in her pocket let out a shrill ring and Chuck noted it was just the default ring. No special ditty or custom tone, she hadn't even picked a different one from the options that had come with the phone.

"Where are you?" she demanded of the caller.

"Who is it?" Chuck whispered and she looked at him, her eyes full of worry and anger. She focused on him for a brief moment and then she pulled her phone from her ear and punched the speaker button.

"…think that I'm a fool?" Lizzie Shafai's laugh rang, delicate, feminine and slightly unhinged, through the phone line. "I have dedicated five years of my life to this mission, and I'm not going to disappear until I complete it. So, if you want to find me, Franco, you just keep looking over your shoulder because I'm coming for you. You and the nerd."

Chuck and Jenny stood looking at each other as the call disconnected. "She's still desperate, she doesn't have it," Jenny said.

"But I don't understand," Chuck muttered, his mind trying to gather and import all the new information one simple phone call had brought.

"Killing Edgar didn't get it for her; that means you've got it."

"I don't. Jenny, you know I don't."

"You have to, Chuck," she insisted. "You're the only option left." Her eyes were hungry and he didn't like it. Besides, she was wrong. Regardless of what Bartholomew had said, he still thought this Anderson person could have the damn thing. Problem was he couldn't tell her that.

Frustrated, he stalked over to the desk, yanked open a drawer and tossed Jill's purse to her. "Here you go, KatRebJen." He walked over and slumped onto the edge of the bed. "Have at it. I've been through it a million times, but whatever."

She looked at him oddly as she caught the bag, and he thought maybe there was hurt there, but she turned away, moving behind him to empty the contents onto the bed.

Chuck sighed and turned around toward her. He looked at the things spread out on the bed. "Okay, so somewhere in here is a cache of top secret government information." He held up a hair clip and waved it around. "Micro dots embedded in the plastic? I wouldn't've thought she'd had time…"

"No," Jenny said as she looked over each item carefully. "It was far too much information to be stored in that way. Also, you're right, she wouldn't've had time."

Chuck gawped at her. "So you're saying the only thing preventing her from hiding this Intersect thing on a microdot inside a hair clip is time and storage space?"

She looked up at him, completely serious. "Well, it's not really a microdot, but… yeah. Why?"

"No reason at all," Chuck responded flatly. _Just suddenly feeling like I've been sucked into a Bond movie_. He sifted through the items, studying each of them, but he had no idea what to look for. He picked up the letter Jill had written him and pulled it from the envelope. Reading it over, he found it just as baffling as the first time. He tossed it back into the pile and picked up the cheap, pink tooth brush, turning it in his fingers. He looked up as Jenny opened Jill's wallet, pulling out the 4000$ in cash still hidden there. She looked at him questioningly and he shrugged, picking up the pen and taking it apart to look inside. Next, she lifted one of the condoms.

"Is this the brand you usually use?" she asked holding it up.

Chuck blinked and looked from the condom to her and back again. "Um…"

"This isn't the kind we used last night," she said, looking at it closely, checking the edges. "Or is it just that Jill bought a different brand than you?"

"Ah… ha… um…" Forget his ears burning; he was pretty sure he was full on red. "No, I don't buy that brand and… uh… Jill usually left it to me, but," he swallowed. "It had been _awhile_ …"

She frowned. "What?" She looked over at him. "What do you… Oh. Oh!" Then she smiled, laughing softly. "Well, you certainly wouldn't know you were out of practice." Chuck continued to sit and gape at her and she swooped in, her hand cupping his cheek as she kissed him soundly. "You're really cute you know that? It's okay, I know you were in this relationship, Chuck, you lived with her, so I pretty much assumed you'd had sex."

Chuck took a deep breath. "Alright, yeah, it's just… awkward."

"I probably would have realized that if I wasn't in 'work mode,'" she said, turning back to the condoms. She tore each one open and checked them over before tossing them in the trash. After she'd emptied out the toothpaste even she was convinced it wasn't there.

"What about the phone?" Chuck asked picking it up. "I mean, how small do you think they could shrink the info? Could they fit in or on the phone somehow?"

"I don't know," she said. "Can you find out, can you hook it up to the computer or something?"

Chuck crossed to the desk and picked up his keys. "First we could just look inside, then I'll see if I can hook it up." Using his ever present screwdriver, he deftly took the phone apart piece by piece. There were no extra parts so Chuck moved over to the computers, still hooked together, on the desk. "Hey, my program finished running," he commented as he shut things down between the laptops and prepared to hook up the phone.

Jenny came over to stand next to him and he looked up at her with a half-smile. "I'm sorry about being mad… before."

She smiled and caressed the back of his neck and the sensation sent a thrill through him. "It's okay."

He turned back to the computer and ran all the usual diagnostics. Nothing indicated storage was being taken up by anything other than the phone's operating system. "Nada," he said straightening up and shaking his head. "It's just a phone and I'm all out of ideas."

Jenny stood to her feet and started pacing. "This doesn't make any sense, it has to be here." She continued silently for a few moments before looking up at him. "What about the apartment?" she asked. "Have you searched it?"

"Yeah, when I first got home and found the place empty," he said. "I searched every room, I looked through all the drawers, the closets, the cabinets… everywhere."

"Yes, but Jill was a spy," Jenny insisted. "It's most likely she had a safe installed, or at the very least a hiding place for things she needed to keep on hand."

"I… I guess I didn't want to think about it," he said. "I just hope the landlord hasn't changed the locks."

xXx

Walking into the apartment again, after everything that had happened, was even more unsettling than it had been that afternoon he'd come back to find it empty. Even though it had been less than a week, the smell had grown stale and it was no longer the familiar scent of home.

Chuck flipped on the light as Jenny stepped inside and shut the door. "So," he sighed. "Where do we start?"

Jenny slipped her hand into his and gave it a squeeze and he felt himself relax. She looked around a moment and then turned back to him. "Give me the five cent tour and we'll go from there."

He obliged, walking her through the place room by room, skimming past the master bedroom as quickly as he could. She chuckled at his reluctance but he couldn't help it. Talking about the bedroom you shared with your dead, not quite 'ex' girlfriend, with the woman you hoped was your new girlfriend, (but weren't quite sure because you didn't even know her real name) was just really awkward.

When they got to the guest room at the end of the hall, Jenny slipped past him and looked around the room.

"Did anyone ever actually sleep in here?"

"No, actually," Chuck said, leaning a shoulder against the door frame and slipping his hands into his pockets. "It always kind of bugged me actually, because she insisted on keeping it as a guest room but she'd never let Morgan stay over. Would've been handy after a few of our late night Rock Band competitions."

She looked back over her shoulder at him questioningly and then a grin curled at the corner of her mouth. "You're talking about a video game aren't you?"

His smile was a mile wide. "I am. You are learning grasshopper." She laughed and turned back to the wall, smoothing the palms of her hands over the surface. "So, uh, what can I do to help?"

"Look around, think of any places you might've over looked last time," she said, still studying the wall intently.

"Okay," Chuck said nodding his agreement, but he stayed and watched her a moment longer, her graceful movements and the way her long, sunny hair brushed across her back. Her black shirt had a row of butterflies down the back, reminiscent of a spinal column, which accentuated her slender form and drew his eye down to her hips and long legs. He could easily recall having those legs wrapped around him just a few hours ago and he decided he should probably get to work before he got himself into trouble.

Being in the apartment when it was so empty was a haunting feeling, and as he carefully looked in and under drawers, checked vents and looked through cabinets, he couldn't help but think about the life he had tried to make there.

Hind sight being what it was, he could see now that things had been far from perfect from the beginning, that he had let himself settle into an unfulfilling relationship with Jill because he had been so sure he couldn't do any better. Not only had she been beautiful, she had been nerdy like him, making up math codes to get things past other members of their group, playing EverQuest until the wee hours of the morning. Once they'd moved in together, she'd never complained about his nights out with Morgan or his extended hours of video gaming, though she never really hung around to watch either.

The thing was, he had known something was missing. There was a lack of connection that he had found himself wishing for. He'd tried to talk to Jill about it several times, once even bringing up the idea of moving out, but she had always begged him to stay. And for a while things would be really good, she'd be home more, they'd hang out together and they'd have sex, a lot of sex, but eventually things always settled back into the same, frustrating pattern.

He wondered if it was telling that he had finally found that connection with someone who was even more mysterious, keeping even more secrets than Jill ever had, who didn't know the difference between a Wookie and an Ewok, and had probably never so much as thought about playing a video game. A wry smile turned his lips as he looked back down the hall. He was in way over his head with this woman, but if he was ever going to figure anything out concerning her, he needed to sort out the mess that Jill had left him. Then, maybe he could tell her that he was completely in love with her. And maybe she'd tell him her real name.

As he continued his search, one of the drawers actually yielded a small, leather bound calendar and his eyes lit up with hope as he flipped it open. He looked through the pages carefully but found nothing. It was completely blank. His thumb stopped on December 20th and he remembered the letter from Jill. Considering everything that he had learned since that day at the police station, Chuck still found the letter the most odd. Why did she write it, why did she have it? She had cleaned out their apartment, sold his clothes, his business, but she was going to send him this letter and… what? Obviously she had been going on the lamb because of the Intersect theft but she had wanted him to join her? He pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the headache that had started to throb at the front of his skull.

"Chuck!" Jenny called and his head snapped up. "I think I found something."

He ran down the hall at full speed, grabbing the door jamb to swing himself into the room and come to a stumbling halt. Jenny was kneeling on the floor next to a pulled up section of carpet. In the section of floor the carpet would've covered was a sunken, flat faced safe. It looked a little like something out of a science fiction movie.

"I've never seen a safe like this before," she was saying as he joined her on the floor. "I'm usually pretty good at cracking them," the nonchalant way she announced that caused Chuck to do a double take, "but this one is beyond me."

He looked back at the high-tech looking display, studying it with intent curiosity. His eyes caught on the logo at the bottom corner and he felt that tingling sensation trickle through his brain. His eyelids fluttered ever so slightly as his mind flooded with information about the safe and the company that made it.

"Oh," he said, surprised. He had almost forgotten about the previous incidents. How could he possibly know this? He ran his fingers over the face, finding the subtly raised edges of the keyboard buttons. He held one of them down for a count of twenty and the display blinked to life. "It takes an eight digit, numerical code." _What. The. Hell?_

Jenny frowned at him for a moment and then sighed. "We're gonna have to pull it out and cut it open."

"With this reinforced steel body…? unless you have access to a laser, that's not gonna work."

"I can get it to a laser," she said darkly, her mouth set in a grim line.

"Jenny…"

"Chuck, we need to get inside this safe," she insisted. "You don't install a safe like this in your house unless you have something important to keep in it. We're not only talking about the information Jill stole. Remember, there was something else she was keeping for Fulcrum as well. If we get our hands on it, it could be invaluable."

Chuck frowned. "Jenny, look, I don't think…"

"Where's the closest hardware store?" she demanded, standing to her feet and pushing her hair behind her ears.

"Jenny, wait, just stop okay? I…" he looked back at the digital display and a very odd thought came to him. "Let me try something…"

It was almost as if a digital display inside his head was rolling the numbers into place. He reached out and started punching them in according to the sequence flashing in his mind. 12,20,01… no that wasn't enough numbers… 12,20, 1300…

There was a click and the door to the safe released with a hiss. He looked up at her with wide eyes and she fell back to her knees beside him.

"What? Chuck, how did you…"

"I… it was in the letter… the dentist appointment I didn't have."

They looked at each other in silence for a moment and when Jenny reached for the door Chuck shot out his hand to stop her.

"Wait, I need to tell you something," he said and she made a face, impatient as she looked at him.

"What? Look, if this is about –"

"I know that Jenny isn't your real name," he blurted and her eyes flew open wide, "And, I don't care. I mean, I _do_ care, but it doesn't change anything, and even though I know that you are probably only doing this for the money it could make you and that it's possible I'm just a part of that game, I want you to know that for me… it's real. I love you, Katie-Rebecca-Jenny-whoever, and I hope that, no matter what happens with all of this, that afterward, we can try to get to know each other for real."

"Chuck." The sadness he saw in her eyes was overwhelming and he felt his stomach sink to the floor as she looked away for a moment before coming back. "That's… that might not be possible."

That was it. He could tell that was all he was going to get from her and it felt a whole lot like being socked in the gut by one of Captain Awesome's fraternity brothers. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly in hopes that his voice would sound normal when he spoke. "Just… just think about it?"

It was a long moment before she responded, and the grip she had on his hand increased in pressure for each increment of that moment until it was actually painful. Then she nodded, looking down at their clasped fingers. When she released his hand, he let her go.

She lifted open the safe door and looked inside. Chuck held back, still reeling from his hasty confession, but it didn't fully quell his curiosity. The answers to everything that was going on could be in this safe, so he moved in next to Jenny to peer inside. They both stared.

Jenny reached in, pulled out a stack of hundred dollar bills and looked them over in the light. "They're real," she said, running her thumb over the banded pile.

"How – how much?"

She pulled the stacks out one by one, setting them on the floor between them. "Twenty-five, stacks of 10,000 – if they're standard – that's –"

"Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars," Chuck breathed. "That's the money she got for selling everything… so, this is what she did with it? But why?"

"There's something else." She pulled out an envelope and held it out to him. He looked at her worriedly before taking it from her hand and sliding his finger beneath the seal. A hastily folded letter slipped out into his hand.

Jill's handwriting was as familiar as always, but there was something different about it, something rushed and nervous, making the edges of her usually carefully formed letters sharp and ragged. He read the words out loud.

_Chuck - I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry for everything and I wish I could explain to you what I mean by that, but if you are reading this it means they've found me out and I wasn't able to get to you in time. So don't ask a lot of questions, please, trust me this one last time, even though I don't deserve it. You are in very_ _,_ _terrible danger. For the last eight years I have been working for some very bad people, and they want_ _you_ _, Chuck. I don't have time to explain why, just listen. In this safe is two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. It's hardly enough and I'm sorry about what I had to do to get it but I did what I had to. There's also a packet…_

He looked up as Jenny pulled the item from the safe and settled it into her lap.

_It has all the things you will need to take on a new identity and disappear. Please, Chuck, run. Just run and don't look back. – Jill._

His eyes were wide as he looked up at Jenny. She pulled open the Velcro flap and tipped the package onto the carpet next to the money. A passport, driver's license, birth certificate and several other items slid out.

"Oh my God," Chuck said, lifting the passport and opening it. There was his picture next to the name Charles VanWinkle.

Jenny looked everything over, her brow furrowed thoughtfully as she looked over each item, then her head snapped up and she stared at Chuck in horror.

He didn't see her reaction, too caught up in the insane thoughts tripping through his head. He held a stack of ten thousand dollars in one hand and Charles VanWinkle's driver's license in the other, looking back and forth between them as his mind assembled all the pieces to this particular puzzle.

"It's me," he said, his voice flat, empty of all emotion. "I'm the thing Jill was keeping for Fulcrum. _Everything_ about us was a lie… it was…" he stopped mid-sentence and clamped his lips together. "I'm gonna throw up," he mumbled as he scrambled to his feet and hurried out into the hallway.

Jenny sat in the middle of the floor, her eyes following him intently.


	12. Chapter 12

 

Chuck pressed his cheek against the cool tile of the bathroom wall. The chill of it had a somewhat soothing effect, even as his mind continued to re-run the horrible revelation. _Jill wasn't only lying about her job, about what she was doing, she was lying about me. Everything was a lie, every word, every moment… I was her job…_

He heard footsteps crossing the carpet, heard them hesitate at the open door of the master bathroom, but he didn't turn or remove his face from the wall. She turned on the lights and even through his eyelids he was aware of the brightness reflecting off of the sparkling white tiles. He didn't open his eyes when she moved closer.

"How much do you think they'll give you for handing me over?" he asked, finally turning so his back was to the wall and he was looking up at her.

"Chuck –"

"I mean, a _whole person_. That… that should get you enough to retire somewhere tropical, you know, until you get bored."

"Chuck."

"Then there's the cash, I'm sure that will help."

"Chuck. Listen –"

"I don't understand," he pleaded. "Why do they want me? What for? What on earth does some nefarious organization want with a computer repairman? There's nothing special about me. I'm _nobody_."

She knelt down, took his hands in hers and squeezed. "That's not true. You're not nobody, and you _are_ special."

"Did you know? Have you known the whole time? Is that why –"

"No, I didn't know, Chuck," she insisted. "I had no idea … about any of this. That's not why I'm here. I told you why… I didn't lie about that."

"I can't do it. I can't just disappear, okay? Ellie… my mom and my dad, they both vanished from our lives… with no explanation. She's the strongest person I know but I don't think she could take it if I disappeared… I can't just _vanish_."

"No, no you don't have to do that," she gave his hands a little shake. "We can still find what Jill stole. Lizzie doesn't know about you yet, but if you run, they _will_ find you." She bit her lip, her thumb brushing rhythmically over his knuckles. She kept looking around as if she would be able to spot the answer somewhere in the room. "Maybe if we find the Intersect and get it back where it belongs… that will be enough…" She didn't look especially confident.

"What about the money, I thought that's what you wanted?" His dark eyes searched her face.

"I don't care about the money," she said sharply.

"Why?" Chuck asked. "You got yourself mixed up in all of this to make a fortune. Well, there's a small one in the other room and now you don't care? Why?"

"Chuck," she whispered, "You really are impossible, you know that?" She leaned in and kissed him, gently molding his lower lip between hers. He pulled away and brought his hand up between them.

"You really don't want to do that right now."

Her smile was rueful. "Yeah, I do because you needed it. And so did I."

"I'm not sure it's going to be enough," he said quietly.

"I know," she replied sadly. "But listen, I won't let anything happen to you." Her voice was firm, determined and he looked into her eyes and couldn't find the lie. She looked down at their joined hands and then gave them a tug. "C'mon. Get up, rinse out your mouth and we'll figure out how to get everything back to the hotel. You have to go to work today."

"Oh, God, I have my first shift back at the Buy More today," he groaned as he let her pull him to his feet.

"You don't have to go," she said softly.

Chuck swished tap water around in his mouth and spit it into the sink. "They're expecting me," he sighed, avoiding his reflection in the mirror. He looked down at the sink. He used to shave in this sink. For five years he had shaved in this sink while Jill had stood next to him putting on lipstick and eye stuff and it had been her job.

"Chuck, it's okay to give yourself a break every now and then."

"You know what? People are depending on me to be there," he said, his voice surprisingly harsh. "And, sure it might be a dead end job, and I don't intend to be there for long, but I keep my word. I do what I say I'm going to do and I _am_ who I _say_ I am. Simple as that." She was quiet, accepting the rebuff and even after all the lies she'd told, it made him feel guilty. He ran a hand over his face. "You know, my self-righteous tirade plays better if you're a least a little defensive," he said giving a weak grin to her reflection in the mirror.

She returned it with one of her own, her hand caressing the space between his shoulder blades. "I'll remember that next time."

xXx

Chuck tugged at the gray tie around his neck and straightened the pocket protector that bore his name and photo. It was all part of the uniform, along with the white dress shirt and black slacks. He was officially back to being a Nerd Herder, a member of the Buy More's not so elite computer repair team, and the realization was more than a little depressing. Skip, the supervisor, was so tall and lanky that he made Chuck feel average, which was a fine feat. He had handed Chuck an enormous stack of work orders, mumbled something apologetic and ambled off to parts unknown. Chuck sighed. Some of the work orders were for as far back as six months.

At the sound of snickering, he turned in his chair to see two Nerd Herd employees behind him. They were huddled over a video camera that was displaying different recordings of women's cleavage. Chuck rolled his eyes and turned back to his task, giving it only half his attention. His mind was elsewhere, mainly back at his hotel with 250,000 dollars, a letter from a girlfriend who'd been keeping him for terrorists but tried to save him in the end, and a woman who had taken his heart but was lying to him about pretty much everything.

"That was a mighty big sigh my friend." Chuck felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see one of the aforementioned Nerd Herders, Lester Patel, looking at him stoically. "C'mon, new guy, tell Uncle Lester your problems."

"Or you could tell Uncle Jeff," the other guy said, his voice slow and somewhat monotone. Chuck tipped back in his chair in order to look at the other guy and received a creepy wink in response.

"Yeah… I don't really see that happening," he said as he narrowed his eyes, watching the scary one carefully for a moment. "Ever," he added and they shrugged and moved away.

"Your loss, my friend," Lester called over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I have fantastic oral abilities," Jeff announced loudly.

Lester leaned into his companion, who had more than a foot of height on the smaller man, and grabbed his arm, a pained look on his face. "Aural, the word you mean is aural, you _idiot_. Don't say things like that in public, Jeff, you make me afraid to stand next to you."

Chuck gave his head a little shake, grabbed the entire stack of orders in front of him, and headed back to the storage cage where he knew the computers needing repair were kept. He set up at the work table, clearing it of lunch debris and cans of beer. With an air of determination, he grabbed the first computer on the list and went to work.

"Hello, computer what seems to do your problem?" he asked rhetorically as he looked through the papers and compared them to what he saw. Winona was in his hand, almost without thought, and he went to work opening up the case and getting a look inside. This was something he could do. This was something he was good at. He didn't have to wonder if something was really what it looked like. If something didn't seem right with a computer, he knew all the steps that would lead him to finding out what was really going on. And if a computer was keeping secrets, he knew how to find them out too.

It was the complete opposite with women.

He knew he should be focused on finding the Intersect instead of figuring out 'Jenny the Question Mark,' or Jill the … well, he didn't know what Jill was, who she was or what to think of her. She had been lying to him since the day he'd met her. Their entire relationship had been a lie. He had been nothing but a job to her… and yet, in the end it seemed she'd tried to save him. What did that mean? Was that the reason she was killed?

That thought made his stomach lurch, so he forced himself to focus again on the small bits of laptop hardware he was working on.

He needed to find the Intersect, then he could put all of this behind him and start putting his life back together… well, as long as they didn't figure out that he was part of what they wanted…

He dropped his screwdriver and pinched the bridge of his nose as a headache took hold of the front section of his brain. He was about to go in search of an aspirin when his phone blared out 'Mystery Woman', the eurobeat sounding especially tinny in the large room. He snatched the phone from his pocket and flipped it open, knowing it was Jenny and not sure how he felt about it.

"Hello," he answered, feeling a little awkward. The way they'd said good bye before he'd headed to work had been strained, but with all the thoughts swirling through his head right now, he wasn't sure how to set it right.

"Chuck, I'm glad you answered," Jenny said. She sounded down but there was also a determined edge to her voice. "Listen, I hope you won't be mad, but I went through Jill's things one more time."

"No," Chuck said, shaking his head even though she couldn't see him. "No, it's fine…"

"There was a receipt from the police station, it mentions a notebook. Did you see it this morning? Because it's not here now."

"What? The notebook? It was a little green, spiral thing, like you'd pick up at pretty much any store… Um," Chuck closed his eyes and went over the items as he remembered them from that morning. "No, no I didn't see it."

"So Lizzie took it, or Edgar, when they went through your things…"

"But why would they…" Chuck frowned a moment before his eye brows shot up to his hairline. "Wait! There was something written in there… an appointment or something…" He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to think.

"What was it?" Jenny asked, the melancholy he'd heard in her voice before was gone, replaced by a hint of excitement. "Can you remember?"

"Yeah, I think it was something about… Colby Park at 2pm? But that was last week… or do you think it's another clue… like with the letter?" The last part sent apprehension shooting through him.

"I don't know Chuck, I'll go check it out," she said and he could hear the jingle of her keys in the background.

"Okay, okay," he said. He looked around the storage room then turned back to the phone. "Call me if you find anything."

"I will Chuck, I promise," she said, and he desperately wished that he believed her.

He stuck his phone back in his pocket and tried to go back to his work — but he couldn't focus. If there was a clue, then Jill left it for him. It was possible that Jenny, as smart as she was, wouldn't even know it when she saw it. He quickly stood to his feet and then looked at the computer half disassembled in front of him and made a frustrated face. He couldn't leave the job half done. With a sound of annoyance he sat back down and set to work.

xXx

Jenny shut the door to her Porsche as her narrowed eyes scanned the entrance to Colby Park. There were people everywhere and she'd been lucky to grab a space in the parking lot at all. She followed the crowd as they ambled onto the trampled grass, the heels of her thigh high boots sinking into the soft dirt. Most of them chatted excitedly and the overall effect was a din of noise that vibrated the air around them. Her brow furrowed as she stopped on the curb, watching for a moment before she continued on with the crush of the crowd.

Her blue eyes scanned each booth as she passed, giving each one just a moment's attention. They were all science or science fiction related, one showing fractal art while another delved into the feasibilities of cold fusion. Some of them were really out there and others skirted the edge of possibility.

She turned a corner, past a booth where the guy in charge wore an **H** on his forehead, and stopped quickly when a familiar face caught her eye. Lizzie Shafai, dressed in a dark green v-neck and jeans, her hair pulled back in a casual ponytail, was walking along, blending in with the crowd. Only someone with training would've noticed the way her eyes studied her surroundings, or the small bulge of the pistol in her waistband. Jenny changed directions, following her prey at a distance.

As Lizzie moved from one nerdy exhibit to the next, her look of frustration began to grow. Jenny watched closely as the other woman stopped up ahead, turning to stare at something Jenny couldn't see. Her head tipped to the side. Annoyance was replaced by curiosity, then realization and then something resembling the face of a child on Christmas morning. After a moment of staring in awe, she stood up straight, her eyes wide and then she turned and ran for the parking lot.

Jenny cut through the crowd, moving to the place where Lizzie had been standing. She turned around slowly, her eyes examining each display critically, her frown growing more intense with each one. Then she stopped and everything in her face changed. Her eyes opened wide for a moment and then narrowed as she set her jaw. Spinning on her heel, she set off after Lizzie at a dead run.

xXx

Chuck paid the taxi driver in haste, parting with the last of his cash – he just hadn't felt right about spending Jill's money – with little thought. As his eyes scanned the crowd, he untucked his white shirt for comfort, and loosened his tie, tucking the pocket protector away out of sight. There were hundreds of people and he knew it was unlikely he'd spot Jenny amongst so many, but it didn't stop him from searching for her. He hurried across the crowded parking lot and stopped at the edge of the grass. It was like a science fair. The first booth he was confronted with was all about the science of Star Trek and he had to stop himself from being lured in by it. _C'mon, Chuck_ , he told himself, _more important things to do at the moment. Focus._

He moved through the crowd, looking from face to face and from booth to booth as he tried to figure out what clue Jill might have left for him here and find Jenny at the same time. The person he found was the last one he was thinking of at the moment.

"Morgan?" he asked as he spotted his bearded friend talking animatedly with someone near an exhibit that seemed to be about some sort of photography.

"Chuck!" Morgan shouted, and he abandoned his conversation, pushing through the crowd. He leapt into the air, wrapping his arms around Chuck as if he were a tree to be climbed and squeezed hard. Chuck braced himself and laughed as his friend clung to him. "You're alive!"

"If you don't strangle me to death, then yes," Chuck responded, still laughing.

Morgan dropped to the ground. "Man, you have no idea how good it is to see you here! And by here I don't mean here, Colby Park, I mean here, the land of the living and not… You know, not… _battling evil in another dimension_."

"It's good to know I would be missed," Chuck laughed. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh man, isn't it fantastic?" Morgan enthused. "I only found out about it last weekend and I didn't get a chance to tell you. Man, you have got to see this…" he grabbed Chuck's arm and started dragging him through the crowd of people, not caring who he jostled out of the way. Chuck apologized as they went. "Look at this," Morgan said when they arrived at the photography booth. "This totally reminds me of that class you were taking at Stanford, remember? The one you got kicked out of?"

"That was just a misunderstanding," Chuck said, not really looking at the booth. "I never cheated. I don't even know what that was about. I'm just glad he let me drop the class instead of reporting me to the school and making a huge thing out of…" he trailed off as he looked up at the display screen and watched as an image was split into several hundred others. The man inside the booth was rambling on about encoded images and how they could possibly be used in the future to hasten learning. Then he blinked as a picture of a rose in front of the White House flashed to the front of his mind and the words, Intersect Project filtered through his thoughts.

Thousands of images seemed to fly by, diagrams, maps, data reports and several names and code names. Engineers, scientists and doctors.

"Encoded images, mining for patterns, sharing secrets…" Chuck mumbled out loud as the flood of information came to an end. He could feel his hands shaking as his mind came back to the present.

"What?" Morgan asked.

What was happening to him? He didn't know anything about the Intersect except that it was what the others had called the information that Jill had allegedly stolen, and yet here was a well of information in his mind pertaining to it — its purpose, its function. Another image pressed to the forefront of his mind and he swallowed as he remembered… images — so many images — flashing on the screen of his laptop. They had pulled him in, mesmerized him and he couldn't look away.

"It's possible, that with the right type of encoding, the human brain might actually be capable of retaining this information, even recalling it at will," the young man in the booth was saying. "Of course, we are light years away from anything like that and current encoding is more likely to overload the brain and leave the subject a vegetable." He ended his little speech with a chortle of laughter.

"Oh my God…" Chuck stared at the demonstrator but didn't really see him; instead he was back in Professor Fleming's office being told he had scored higher on the testing than any other student in the history of the class. He'd been proud of the fact because he'd studied hard. He remembered that day so vividly because he had felt on top of the world, and then he had met Jill within hours afterward. It had been a good day. A week later, Fleming had called him back to his office and informed him that he had reason to believe Chuck had cheated to get those scores, but since he didn't have definitive proof, he wouldn't bring it up with the school if Chuck agreed to drop the class without a grade. "This isn't happening… this isn't happening…"

"Chuck? Hello, Earth to Chuck!" Morgan was saying, waving a hand in front of his face. Chuck turned and looked back at him with wide eyes as thoughts, like puzzle pieces, started to assemble in his mind.

"I… I need to sit down…" Chuck said, turning too suddenly and running into someone behind him. He held up his hands apologetically as Morgan once again grabbed his arm.

Away from the crowd, Morgan shoved him onto a park bench beneath a broad oak tree, and he let his head fall into his hands. Was that where it started? Because of how he had done in Fleming's class? Jill had taken him in and watched him all this time… for what? So they could put the Intersect in his head? And Bryce, the way he'd argued against Jill, but now… His head snapped up, his eyes wide.

"I need to go."

"What? What is going on? Chuck, talk to me," Morgan demanded.

"It's in me… it's in my head, the Intersect," Chuck rambled as he stood to his feet, and then looked stricken as he turned to Morgan, whose eyes were equally wide. "Oh, God, Morgan, please, you didn't hear that, these people… they'll…" he couldn't bring himself to say the words 'kill you' out loud, "I need to get back to the hotel."

He started hurrying towards the parking lot with Morgan on his heels, the shorter man taking two steps for every one of Chuck's in order to keep up.

"Crap," Chuck said as he looked in his wallet, finding one scraggly dollar bill and a two week old ticket stub. "I used the last of my cash on the cab to get here. I was expecting to get a ride back with Jenny."

"Who?" Morgan asked.

" _Rebecca_ , I mean Rebecca," Chuck corrected, coming to a stop. "Have you seen her by any chance?"

"Tall, beautiful, Valkyrie like blonde… nope, can't say as I have."

"Okay, then… Morgan, I need to borrow your bike."

"Of course! No problem." He handed Chuck his keys, holding the one to his bike lock out and Chuck grabbed them. With a breathless thank you he once again took off for the parking lot. Behind him, Morgan shoved his hands in his pocket and said, "Just… how will I get home?" but Chuck was already gone.

xXx

She burst in through the door that connected her room to Chuck's and rushed inside, gun at the ready. She stopped when she spotted Lizzie sitting in the chair next to the hotel desk. In front of her, Chuck's fried laptop and it's borrowed, Nerd Herd companion were both open. Lizzie turned the chair around quickly, revealing an arrogant smile.

"Well, hello, Franco, if that is your real name," Lizzie commented, folding her hands in her lap.

"Alright, Lizzie, enough of this," she said, pointing her Smith and Wesson pistol at Lizzie's face. "It's over, no more games. I have Chuck, and I know you have the Intersect. Give it to me, it's over."

Lizzie actually threw her head back and laughed. It was feminine and musical, but there was something slightly deranged in her sweet voice. "Do you have Chuck? Do you really? Funny, I stopped by that little store where he's supposed to be working and he wasn't there. He's not _here_. So where is he?"

Her eyes darted to the corner and back, her gun steady and Lizzie giggled again. "You silly, little sap, they were smarter than all of us."

"What are you talking about?" she hissed through clenched teeth and Lizzie laughed again, waving a hand at the computer.

"See for yourself." Lizzie tried to get to her feet, but the cold barrel of a pistol pressed hard between her breasts and she sat back down.

The blonde leaned in toward the computer, her hair falling in soft waves over her shoulder and blocking Lizzie's view of her face. Her eyes scanned the computer screen, lighting quickly upon the relevant file. She inhaled sharply.

The program was displaying a list of files recovered from the other computer. Under "emails," listed first to denote last viewed, Bryce Larkin's name flashed - the words "corrupted" in brackets beside it. Lizzie had already tried to open it.

"Aw, I bet you didn't even know that Agent Anderson's real name was Larkin, did you? No one did. Except me. You see, I do my homework. What I hadn't put together until yesterday was that he and Jill _and_ _Chuck_ all went to school together. At Stanford. Isn't that nice?"

Cold blue eyes turned on Lizzie. "You might be surprised by what I know". Those eyes darted back to the screen for a moment and the pressure against Lizzie's chest lessened ever so slightly. The smaller woman seized the opportunity and knocked the gun aside. She managed to kick her opponent in the thigh, causing her to stumble back a step, and then knock the gun from her hand. Lizzie advanced immediately, hoping to take advantage of her surprise attack, but instead she stepped into the other woman's empty gun hand as she brought it back in a violent hammer blow. The hit sent Lizzie flying and she crumpled to the ground near the end of the bed.

"That was the wrong thing to do," the other woman said, shaking out her hand. "Now, give me the Intersect."

Lizzie gave her head a shake and glared up at her, wiping blood from her lip. "Don't you get it! He has it, _you sap_. You stupid, lovesick simpleton! He looked at you with those big, brown, puppy dog eyes and you fell for it hook, line and sinker. He _played_ you."

Her blue eyes narrowed angrily, and her fists clenched and unclenched at her sides.

"The best part is you killed them all for nothing," Lizzie cackled. "You slept with him, trying to gain his trust and the whole time, he was working with Bryce and Jill. You stupid, ridiculous fool!"

Her blue eyes darkened and Lizzie let out another peal of laughter. It stuttered to a stop as the blonde gave her a wide, wicked smile, her fingers fluttering gracefully near her thigh. "Oh, I never kill for _nothing_."


	13. Chapter 13

 

It was well past dark by the time Chuck dropped Morgan's bike next to the bike rack in the Twilight Hotel's parking lot. Out of breath and chilled from his long ride, Chuck clambered up the stairs. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he leaned against the wall and bowed his head before knocking on Jenny's door. There was no answer.

"Jenny?" he called, knocking again. When there was still no answer, he moved to his own door, sliding the key card into the lock. He didn't notice the smell at first, instead making a bee line for the computers. He needed to see the email from Bryce, look for himself to see if his suspicions were correct, if what he was thinking could really be true.

He threw himself into the computer chair and leaned forward, his hands moving to the keyboard. Fingers hovering over the keys, he froze, his eyes going wide as he slowly spun around to face the room. There on the floor beneath the window, lay Lizzie Shafai, her head wrapped in plastic, dark eyes wide, blue lips open, gasping for a breath that would never come.

Chuck yelled and jerked backward, falling off the chair and scrambling across the floor for several feet. He couldn't look away, and his eyes ran over her small body, her once richly toned skin now pale and dull. Her huge, almond shaped eyes, open wide with desperation, made her look more like a frightened child than a brutal assassin. There were streaks of blood across the floor and as he looked closer he could see bruising on her arms. Her wicked looking knife lay a foot from her hand, the blade still clean. Whoever she'd fought, she hadn't drawn any of their blood.

A small piece of metal protruded from her shoulder, and though it was obviously not the cause of death, it drew his eye. Without making a conscious decision to do so, he crawled closer, trembling as his eyes focused on that piece of metal. It was the handle of a throwing knife with three symmetrical holes along its length. He knew that handle. He knew that knife.

As he drew close enough, a small symbol near the blade caught his attention and the picture of a guinea pig in a Santa hat flickered in his mind, followed by the now familiar tingle and flood of information.

_Elimelech Livings. Custom throwing knives._ There were several pictures of the particular knife then -

A humming bird -

_Elana Truffaut_ \- Her name was followed by a pixelated photo of a woman who looked very familiar, aside from the dark red color of her hair. That picture was followed by several others — men in suits gathered around a table with a lone woman. She was blonde and her hair was swept back in a stately twist. She was smiling as she poured a drink for the man next to her. In the next photos the woman was gone and all of the men were dead.

_Eleven Dead in Embassy Poisoning._

Then there was a section of film – grainy, black and white footage of two men walking along the sidewalk together. It was impossible to tell where the desaturated imagery was taking place, it could've been anywhere in the world. As the video played through his mind, a homeless woman, bundled up in blankets and rags, stepped from outside of the camera's range. When they noticed her, the men were dismissive, mocking her, but the mockery turned to fear as the woman attacked them.

She pummeled both men, using her fists and feet with brutal skill. One man went down, the other pulled a gun. The video flickered to static then back again as she gained control of the pistol and fired twice into the man's chest. Behind her, the other man began to stir and she turned and fired a shot into his skull.

Her disguise had come loose during the fight revealing a young woman with light colored hair. She turned to the camera and stalked toward it until her angry face was in plain view, and this time there was no mistaking the face of the woman he'd spent all of the night before making love to. She raised her gun to the camera and fired, sending the film clip into static.

Chuck flinched and the flash faded. He gasped for breath, as the horror of what he had seen melded with the horror of his reality. Less than a second had passed.

He scrambled to his feet and ran to the door, but stopped when a search of his pockets didn't reveal his phone. Instead he pulled a card from his wallet with a trembling hand and forced himself back into the room to the land line phone. He punched in the numbers and waited, unable to breath as the metallic scent of blood finally registered on his senses.

"Bartholomew," the gruff voice greeted and Chuck forced himself to pull in air.

"Mr. Bartholomew, it's Chuck, Lizzie's dead," he managed in a rush.

"Shafai? What happened?"

"It was Jenny, or Rebecca or Katie or whatever the _hell_ her name is… she killed them, _she killed all of them_." He squeezed his eyes shut as the words seemed to echo inside his skull. "But… but I have the information, I… I found it…"

"Alright, calm down, Bartowski." The man's voice was gruff and insistent over the line and Chuck took a deep breath. He felt a little more stable with someone to share the load, as long as he didn't look at the body he was currently sharing a room with. "Say that again? You found the Intersect? Where? _Where is it?_ "

Chuck opened his mouth to answer but stopped. No one was going to believe him. "I… have it. I've got it."

"Alright, listen, you're not safe as long as you have this information." Chuck tried not to think too much about the implications of that statement. "You remember Rummy's?"

"Where I met you on the pier?"

"That's the place. Get there as fast as you can. And Bartowski?"

Chuck's entire body was tense, blood rushing in his ears. "Yeah?"

"Watch out, there's no way of knowing if she was working alone."

He swallowed reflexively as the call disconnected, filling his ear with dial tone. After a scant moment of complete panic, he turned and ran back to the door, stopping again just as his hand seized the knob. He turned back to the room, his glance sweeping over the laptops. No one was going to believe that he had a computer program full of government information in his head, he needed proof. He returned to the desk, studiously avoiding the body under the window, and grabbed up a USB drive, fumbling with it as his shaking hands tried to plug it in. He quickly copied Bryce's corrupted email over to it. Maybe, it would help his case if he couldn't get back to the laptop.

He shoved the drive into this pocket along with his and Morgan's keys, grabbed a pile of change from the bedside table, and hurried from the room. As he stepped onto the balcony, a door across from him opened and Jenny — or whoever she was — stepped out of Edgar's former room. Their eyes locked for the briefest moment before Chuck turned and ran for the stairs.

"Chuck, wait!" she yelled, taking chase. She rounded the first corner as Chuck reached the stairs. "Chuck, stop!"

He didn't listen, but scrambled, half falling down the stairs. "Why?" he yelled back, as he made the bottom of the steps. He turned back and saw her leaning over the rail toward him. "So you can kill me too?"

He ran for a cab that was waiting at the curb but the man brushed him away. "Taken," he said brusquely, gesturing toward his running meter.

Chuck cursed under his breath as he turned and saw Jenny at the top of the stairs. He ran full hilt for Morgan's bike, yanking it up, leaping onto it, and maneuvering into the street.

"Chuck, don't so this!" she hollered as she burst from the stairwell. "We need to talk!" he didn't even look back and she swore loudly before darting off toward the back parking lot where her car was parked.

Chuck stood on the pedals, maxing out the gears to get as much leverage as possible, and he pushed his tired legs to even greater speed. He'd managed to put three blocks between him and the Twilight, but he still heard the roar of the powerful Porsche engine as it burst from the parking lot and onto the street with squealing tires. He looked back over his shoulder as the sleek black car slid across two lanes before correcting, accelerating into the far right.

He whipped his head back around in a panic, just in time to see the light turn red. No time to stop, he went right through it causing a cacophony of screeching tires and honking horns that drowned out the sound of his screaming. He turned back to see the shiny black car skid to a stop behind a beige sedan. After a moment, the horn sounded and the small, sleek car maneuvered its way up onto the sidewalk before blaring through the intersection. He put on another burst of speed as the car started to gain on him easily.

His thighs were starting to get wobbly and he spared a brief thought for the idea of getting more exercise as he pulled air into his burning lungs. At the next block he took a right, unsure of where to go, and just wanting to lose his pursuer. He took a left into an alleyway, with the car nearly on his heels. A huge, green dumpster stood, shoved out at an angle, blocking the road and Chuck gritted his teeth and shot for the narrow passage between it and the brick wall. Behind him the Porsche screeched to a halt and the tires squealed again as it backed up.

Chuck shot out into the street on the other side, the bike's back tire drifting as he barely made the corner. He rode furiously for another block before shooting down another alley. There was a line of dumpsters in this one, all neatly lined up against the wall and he skidded to a halt beside the first one.

"Morgan, buddy," he said to himself as he lifted the 18 speed bike and tossed it inside. "I'm really, really sorry. If I live through this, I promise I'll buy you a new one."

He took off down the alley at a run, breathing hard, his hair clinging to his forehead in sweat soaked curls. His gaze was locked on the opening of the alley way, past a once white, broken down car that blocked the entrance, when the Porsche roared into view, slamming to a top and blocking his path. With the car idling at an angle, half up on the sidewalk, the driver climbed out, her blonde hair a halo about her face in the light of the street lamp. Chuck was already back pedaling.

"Chuck, stop!" she shouted but he shook his head and turned, running flat out for the other end of the alley. He could hear the clack of her heels on the asphalt as she pursued him and tried for more speed, his long legs eating up the pavement. He burst onto the sidewalk, stumbling around the corner but staying upright, and ran to the left. Behind him, he heard her swear, "Dammit!" but he kept running. At the end of the block, as if sent by God himself, the city bus sat idling, just loading its last passenger. With a burst of speed he didn't even know he had, Chuck catapulted himself onto the steps, grabbing the rail as he gasped for breath.

Looking behind him at the angry siren hot on his tail, he dug clumsily in his pocket for change, cursing when he dropped the first few coins before putting enough in the box. The driver nodded and closed the doors. Chuck watched out the window as the blonde skidded to a halt on the sidewalk, watching only a moment as the bus pulled away. Her face went from surprise to anger to determination before she spun around and ran back the way she had come.

Chuck watched her go, hating the part of him that still noticed that anger only made her even more beautiful. He pressed his head against the glass a moment and then slumped down in his seat and tried to catch his breath.

He let the loud roar of the engine and vibrations of the bus' movement swallow him up as he pulled in one deep, slow breath after another. Eventually, his heart beat began to slow and as the bus picked up speed to merge with the late night, freeway traffic, he allowed himself a small laugh of relief.

A loud whistle sounded from the back of the bus, and Chuck's head whipped up.

"That is a sexy ride," a disheveled looking old man said.

"Yeah, someday I'm gonna get me one of those," cackled the man beside him.

They were both turned around to look out the rear most windows, and Chuck felt dread twist in his stomach as he made his way back to take a look. Three cars back, the black Porsche was tailing them, its round headlights like the eyes of big, jungle cat in the dark.

"Oh crap oh crap," Chuck said, slinking down the vinyl seat. "Think, Bartowski," he told himself. Setting his jaw, he slid back up. There was no use in hiding, she knew where he was, and he certainly wasn't going anywhere.

He peered out the back windows again, staring at that car, and for a moment wishing he could see inside. He closed his eyes as the memory of her in Tahoe filled his mind, the way she had pulled him close to write her number on his palm, followed by the scent of her skin when his face was buried in her neck, the hot thrum of energy that sparked to life wherever their skin touched. He knew how it felt to kiss her, to be inside her, but nothing else. Had it really only been that morning that he'd woken up to her hands on his cheeks, her mouth teasing him into wakefulness? He flinched at the thought. The idea that _that_ had been a lie hurt worse than any other betrayal he'd experienced. They were really starting to pile up.

He opened his eyes and watched the city flash by outside the windows. He had to do something. He couldn't just sit here like a rat in a cage, feeling sorry for himself. He checked his pockets again for his cell phone, but he'd obviously lost it somewhere between Colby Park and the hotel. The only way he was going to call Bartholomew was at a landline. _What to do… what_ can _I do?_

The bus changed lanes, preparing to exit and Chuck paid attention to where he was for the first time. Though the city was dark and much less populated at this late hour, he immediately recognized the area. His eyes glanced over the lights and buildings until they lit upon the one he found most familiar. His eyes grew wide and he checked his watch. It was almost midnight and he chewed his lip as an idea started to form in his mind.

Well, it wasn't much of a plan, but maybe it was a place to hide until the cavalry could arrive.

He waited until they had made a couple of stops and he knew the next one was a few blocks off, then stealing himself for the embarrassment, he jumped to his feet. He started yelling and babbling at the top of his lungs. The woman who had been sitting near him stared at him with wide eyes and leaned away. On impulse he grabbed her shoulders and looked right in her face.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen!" he announced. She was at least eighty, with leathery skin and a very large mole above her left eye. She goggled at him. "Run away with me and I promise to make you happy!"

"What the hell!" the bus driver yelled as he looked up in the mirror to see what was going on.

"I love this woman!" Chuck said, looking around nervously at all the eyes staring at him. "And… and I don't care who knows it! It's love I say!" If he lived through this, he hoped none of them ever needed their computers repaired.

He felt the bus slow beneath his feet and scrambled to the mid exit doors. He dug his fingers into the seal and pushed as hard as he could.

"Hey!" the driver hollered, turning around, his tight grip on the steering wheel causing the bus to swerve toward the sidewalk. "You can't do that! Are you crazy?"

"Yes," Chuck said, through gritted teeth. "I'm very, very crazy right now." He pried the doors apart enough to fit his shoulder through. The driver slammed on his brakes and the huge diesel engine growled as the tires slid to a stop. Chuck freed himself from the doors and hit the sidewalk running.

He didn't bother to look back, not at the bus or the black car, where he knew _she_ was watching him. He ran through the streets, past the darkened windows of closed businesses, cutting through alleys and narrow passageways, until he stumbled out onto a familiar street. Across from him, right beneath a bright street lamp, a phone booth sat, grimy and neglected, waiting for him.

Scooping up a rock as he ran, he chucked it at the light bulb, shattering the glass and plunging the area into darkness. He shuffled himself into the narrow booth and quickly dropped in the last of his change. Hoping it was enough, he punched in the number, then knelt down and tried to make himself invisible. As he listened to the sound of ringing on the other end of the line, his palms began to sweat, his heart beating against his ribs as he listened for the sound of the Porsche's powerful engine, certain he'd hear it bearing down on him at any moment.

"Bartholomew, leave a message," came the gruff voice, little more than a grunt. Chuck cursed.

"Mr. Bartholomew, it's Chuck… I can't get to the pier, I'm being followed. I…" he swallowed as he thought of his less than perfect plan. This was never going to work. "I am near Burbank Boulevard and I have access to the Buy More. I'm… I'm headed there. It's closed and I think I'll be able to hide. If you get this message, meet me there… and please hurry."

When he hung up the phone and pulled himself to his feet, he took a moment to freak out. Gripping the receiver and pressing his head against the metal casing of the phone box, he let the complete panic wash over him for a moment, kicking up his heart beat and nearly paralyzing him. Then, he shut it down, took a deep breath and hurried out of the booth and back onto the street.

The back of his mind wanted to remind him that there were other things he could be worried about on the streets of Burbank this late at night, even as he listened subconsciously for the sound of the Porsche. He knew she was still out there looking for him. It was possible she already knew exactly where he was going and would be there waiting for him. Every corner he turned he expected to see her, until that last corner when he stepped out into the Buy More Plaza.

The parking lot was a huge expanse of dark asphalt. All the businesses that surrounded it were closed, their windows darkened, but one. Bennigan's, a somewhat run down franchise restaurant in the far corner, was still spilling light and music out into the darkness. Across from him, looming dark and oddly gloomy in the moonlight, sat the Buy More. Chuck took a deep breath and then ran for it, full tilt across the open space.

The backside of the Buy More was steeped in shadows. A cat jumped down from the railing and landed at Chuck's feet, causing him to jump and bite back a scream. He hurried up the steps to the emergency exit at the far corner, used Morgan's pilfered key to unlock it and stepped inside swiftly to punch in the code that would shut off the security system. He held his breath as he punched in the sequence, imagining Big Mike waking up that morning with the sudden idea that leaving the factory code on his store's alarm system was a bad idea. He exhaled sharply when the lights went green and the beep of success echoed in the quiet. Chuck shut the door and leaned against it, closing his eyes in relief.

The hallway he was in was dark and after a few moments, Chuck decided that wasn't the best place to wait, so he made his way, quietly, toward the front of the store, figuring the Home Theater room at least had a couch to sit on. His legs were tired and his feet were killing him. He loved his chucks but they really weren't made for large amounts of running.

Light from the street lamps spilled in through the large front glass as Chuck crossed the sales floor. He glanced at the Nerd Herd center and realized it had only been a few hours ago that he'd been here working. It seemed like days. He wondered, very briefly, if he still had a job after he had taken off that afternoon. He had barely taken hold of the door to the Theater room when a loud banging came from the front of the store. Chuck ducked down behind one of the displays and then slowly peeked around it, down the main aisle to see what it was.

Beyond the glass stood the broad shouldered figure of Mr. Bartholomew. He was dressed in a well cut, dark suit and looking extremely impatient. Chuck grimaced at the thought of facing him even as he felt relief wash over him. He was safe, or as safe as he was ever going to be with a head full of top secret, government information. As he walked toward the doors he wondered what it meant, if they could take them out or if they were going to lock him up somewhere and use him like some kind of computer.

"Chuck, no!"

He was mid-point on the sales floor, several feet in front of the Nerd Herd counter when he heard her voice. His eyes grew wide as he spun around to find her behind him, gun drawn, face set.

"Chuck, _that_ is John Casey. He's an NSA assassin —" Her tale was cut off by a sudden burst of gunfire and the sound of shattering glass. Chuck, whipped around in shock, saw the man outside firing away at the glass doors and then dove behind the nearest display case. He crawled across the floor, as the gunshots ceased and footsteps sounded on the shattered glass.

"Alright, CIA, I've had enough of your games," John Casey announced loudly as he stepped inside. He swept his gaze across the expanse of inventory. Catching the slight glint off a gun barrel, he ducked aside just as a gunshot sounded, shattering the tile near his feet. He dropped and rolled behind a rack of cheap DVDs.

"Bartowski!" the man called, and Chuck tucked himself up into a ball as if he could hide from it. "You need to give me the Intersect, it's the only way you're going to be safe."

"How do I know that?" Chuck called back. "How do I know you won't kill me just for knowing about it?"

"I work for the government, Mr. Bartowski, we don't' kill innocent people."

"I don't know _who_ you are," Chuck insisted. "I don't know who _anybody_ is!" he started crawling again, skirting up under the display of televisions that lined the wall on one side of the store. He heard the click of a gun and turned to see John Casey standing several feet away. The red dot from his pistol's laser sight danced across Chuck's chest.

"C'mon, Bartowski, you're coming with me."

"No he's not," a feminine voice called. There was a gunshot and a DVD player, displayed near Casey's shoulder, exploded. The NSA agent ducked back undercover. Chuck turned the other direction to see the owner of the voice, her blonde hair loosed and messy about her shoulders. Her eyes narrowed at the display that Bartholomew — or Casey — had disappeared behind.

"Chuck, this woman, who has inserted herself into your life so conveniently since Roberts' death, is Sarah Walker. She's a very successful, CIA assassin and a known associate of the rogue agent, Anderson, who stole the Intersect in the first place."

Chuck pulled himself to his feet, looking from one person to the other, his hands up as if he could fend them off. He turned to the woman and swallowed down the mind numbing panic that was trying to take hold.

"Your name is Sarah?" he said, unsure of why he asked or still cared.

"Yes, Chuck," she said softly, sparing him a quick glance before returning her focus to where Casey was hiding. "That's true, I'm Sarah Walker and I work for the CIA." She took a deep breath and gave him another quick look. "But I'm not working with Agent Anderson, Chuck. I'm still on your side. Please trust me, one last time."

Chuck stared at her. "Why? Why should I?"

She looked at him again. This time her eyes lingered and her lips turned up in a sad, resigned smile. "I can't think of a single reason."

Chuck felt that pull, as if every particle in his body wanted to gravitate toward her, but he resisted. She'd used it against him before. He looked at her sadly, hating himself for still wanting her.

Despite his inner resistance, he must've moved toward her because the NSA agent spoke up. "Hold it right there, Bartowski, I don't want to shoot you but I will if I have to, now give me the Intersect. If you don't, I'll put a bullet in you, one in the blonde and then I'll go out for pancakes. I passed an IHOP on the way here."

"You'll be dead either way, Chuck," she said grimly. "Don't do it." She looked at him compellingly but he couldn't decipher her intent.

He glanced from one antagonist to the other and watched as Sarah adjusted her grip on the huge pistol she held. Biting down on the hysteria crawling up his insides, Chuck scrambled in his pocket for the USB drive, a set of keys — his, Morgan's he didn't know and he didn't look — fell to the floor. "I have it, I have it right here, he said holding up the drive. "Just — don't anybody shoot anybody." Sarah spared him a quick quizzical glance then brought her focus back to Casey.

"Good, now, bring it on over here."

"Chuck, listen to me," Sarah said, her voice intense, frustrated. "He's _N-S-A_ ," she stressed each letter as if their meaning should be clear him. "They want this mess cleaned up and covered up. He's the one that killed the others, that's his job, that's what he does. You've been talking to him right? He's been keeping track of you. When did you call him to tell him to meet you here? This wasn't the original plan was it?" Chuck turned and looked at her, wide eyed as she spoke, her blue eyes intently focused on him now. "He got here pretty fast didn't he? I know you can't trust me, Chuck, I understand that, but you can't trust him either."

"Sarah," Chuck sighed. He didn't know what to do; he didn't trust either of them. "You… you guys both work for the government, can't you just work together? Maybe we can work something out…"

"That's not how it works," Casey said sharply, only his voice was coming from a different place. Chuck and Sarah spun toward him as he drew a bead on the CIA agent. Sarah threw herself out of the way just before he fired, hitting the floor before firing back blindly. Chuck _ran_.

He didn't stop to check if either of them had been shot or if they were following him, he just kicked his aching legs into gear and took off for the 'employee only' door. He heard a gunshot from behind him and flinched as the promotional sign next to the door burst apart at the corner and came detached from the wall. He burst through the swinging doors at full speed and ran smack into the wall on the other side, losing his balance and falling to the floor. His feet slipped on the slick tile as he scrambled back to his feet and continued down the hall. He rounded the corner and collided with someone broad and solid, but shorter than himself. For a moment he thought he would fall, bringing the other person with him, but then two strong hands gripped his shoulders keeping him upright, and he drew back to look down into the intense blue eyes of Detective Pierre.

"Oh, oh, _thank God_ ," Chuck said, almost vomiting the words as his tenuous hold on his emotions began to unravel. "Those two, they —"

"It's alright, Mr. Bartowski," the detective said quietly. "Someone reported gunshots and I had a feeling you were involved. Call it Policeman's intuition." Four men in SWAT gear ran up behind him and he nodded them in direction of the sales floor. "Out there, take care of it."

Chuck was shaking. Relief? Fear? He wasn't sure. He wrapped his arms around his torso and tried to hold himself together. Detective Pierre held out a hand to him, smiling that odd smile of his. "C'mon, Mr. Bartowski, let's get you somewhere safe." Chuck stepped closer and let the older man put a hand on his shoulder and lead him to the back of the store.

"Don't worry about it, Buddy, I'm a pro," Pierre said. "Everything's gonna be just fine."


	14. Chapter 14

NSA agent John Casey dove to the ground, rolling behind a stack of boxed vacuum cleaners. His eyes scanned for his opponent before spotting Chuck, fleeing for the back of the store. He growled low in his throat and took aim, the dark, curly head of hair in his sights. As he pulled the trigger, a foot encased in a sharp heeled, black leather boot, darted out from nowhere, kicking his gun from his fingers. Without waiting to see his bullet go wide, he immediately grabbed the boot around the ankle and tugged, sending Agent Walker to the ground. She grunted as she hit the hard floor and Casey sprung to his feet, yanking out his backup weapon and coming around the tower of boxes to point it at her, but she was waiting, her pistol aimed at his chest.

"What the hell, CIA, he's getting away with the Intersect!" he snarled. "Do you have any idea how many people — spies, soldiers, hard working Americans — have died to gather that information? The damage it could do if it fell into enemy hands?"

"Casey, listen to me, you can't shoot Chuck," Sarah demanded from the floor. "He didn't steal the Intersect, Bryce —" she growled in frustration, " _Anderson_ — sent it to him in an email. He _saw_ the encoded images. He _is_ the Intersect."

Casey's shoulders came down, his intensity lessening but not his grip on the gun aimed at her face. "You're telling be all the intelligence, all the secrets of the United States government are in that idiot's head?" He demanded. "They said that didn't work, that it wouldn't…"

"Well, they were wrong," she retorted. "Jill has been keeping him for Fulcrum."

He grunted. "Well, what are we sitting here for?" he remarked, giving her what might be considered a cheeky grin. He tucked his gun into his pants and held a hand out to her. "We can't very well let him go flailing about in the streets now can we?"

Sarah lowered her gun and grabbed his hand, letting him haul her to her feet. She gave him a grudging smile in return. "No. We can't." They turned as one and headed toward the back of the store where Chuck had disappeared. Four men in SWAT gear burst in, M4 assault rifles raised and ready.

"L.A. PD, drop your weapons!" one of them shouted.

"Federal Agents!" Casey growled. " _You_ lower _your_ weapons." They didn't respond, instead one of the men made a flicking motion with his fingers that drew Sarah and Casey's attention.

They didn't need to see the motion to know it for what it was, and the two experienced agents dove for cover a split second before the automatic weapons roared to life, the bullets exploding merchandise on the shelves above their heads.

"I think it's safe to say they ain't SWAT," Casey commented, quickly checking his magazine.

"You don't say," Sarah rejoined as they ducked out to return fire.

xXx

Chuck knew he was rambling but he couldn't seem to pull the reigns on his run away mouth. Every thing that had happened in the last week, things he thought he'd dealt with, seemed to crack open inside his chest, pouring out panic, fear and grief. As he spoke, Detective Pierre ushered him down the white walled corridor to the stock room. Chuck didn't even take notice that the cargo bay doors were wide open as the older man guided him through them and down the ramp into the back parking lot.

"I mean first she's Katie and then Rebecca and then Jenny and now… how am I supposed to believe anything she says and the other guy —" The sound of gunfire filled the air and he jumped, turning in the direction they had come. "Oh! Oh God, wait… this isn't right, this — those are federal agents!" he said moving back toward the store. All the fear he had felt for himself just a moment before evaporated and he could only think about one thing, one person. "Oh no," he said and took several hurried steps back toward the store before the detective stopped him.

"What are you talking about? How do you know they are federal agents?"

"I… I… Look. I wish I understood what was going on," he flinched as another bout of automatic gunfire echoed from inside the store, followed by the more punctuated sounds of handguns returning fire. "I just want to be safe and know who is on _my side_ , that's all. I'll gladly give them the information if they promise to leave me and my family alone… please, maybe we can all sit down and talk it out… or —"

"So… you have it?" Pierre asked. "You have the information they were all after? Do you have it with you?"

"I — What?" Chuck replied, turning to look sharply at the police officer. Had he mentioned the information to Pierre? "I'm sorry…"

"Just tell me the truth, Chuck, and we can bring an end to all of this," the detective said, raising his hand to his forehead, running a thumbnail over his eyebrow as his intent gaze melted into a glower. Chuck's gaze honed in on a tattoo on the inside of Pierre's wrist. It was a circle, bisected by what looked like a cane, and his mind immediately locked onto it, spilling forth information that rocketed across his synapses at lightning speed.

_A sign for Ares, representing the power of murderous aggression, violence and warfare…_

The flash of information was accompanied by a photo of a man, his face half in shadow as he strangled a man with his bare hands, the tattoo visible — then a document with Pierre's face, looking grimly back at the camera — _Frank Mauser_ — _Fulcrum_ , the word blood red in his mind's eye. Pictures began to flash, starting with Lizzie, then Alexis, then Jill — all from his own memory. They were followed by the same pictures he'd seen before in Pierre's office and more, everyone in them strangled or suffocated in someway. Then finally, just one word, the Intersect drawing it's own conclusion from the information — _Coldstreet_ —

Chuck gasped, softly, as the intersect released him and Pierre/Mauser looked up. To him it had been less than a second, Chuck's reaction no more than a blink.

"Well, Chuck?" he asked again, and Chuck's eyes grew wide as he realized the truth, the information his brain had called forth settling quickly into his consciousness. His fist tightened over the flash drive he still held in his palm. He would hand it over now in hopes that the man would be fooled, but he knew it was of little use, especially if he knew why Chuck was involved, why he was the one who'd been chosen for this mess. That he had been Jill's charge to keep for Fulcrum.

His mind flew in a million directions, seeking escape, as sounds of gunfire continued to spill forth from the back of the store. _C'mon, Chuck,_ he chastised, _think!_ His eyes darted to the cargo bay doors and another half-assed plan took loose shape in his mind. He swallowed and turned back. Better a half-assed plan then no plan at all. Maybe, if he could just get a moment to think… He looked over the other man's shoulders and let his eyes go really wide with fear.

"Oh my God!" he yelled, backing away. "What is _that_?"

Mauser turned sharply, looking over his shoulder and Chuck bolted, taking off for the back of the store. His long legs ate up the space, his feet slapping hard against the asphalt. He heard the would-be detective calling after him but he didn't register the words. The whole of his mind and body were focused on finding a place to hide. He grabbed onto the door of the cage and swung himself inside, ducking into the first empty box he saw, turning it away from the opening and folding himself up inside it.

xXx

CIA Agent Sarah Walker ducked down behind one of the few remaining upright display cases and ejected the magazine from her pistol. It was empty and she set her jaw, her eyes narrowing slightly as she replaced the magazine, dropped the slide, and shoved the now useless pistol into the waistband of her pants. The gunshots being exchanged between the remaining Fulcrum agents and the lone NSA agent rang through the air as she pulled a second, much smaller pistol from her boot. Her face was grim as she turned to Casey and his gaze flicked to the small Beretta and back to her face. His eyes narrowed and he didn't flinch as two bullets impacted the front of the Nerd Herd counter where he was hiding. There were only two fulcrum agents left standing, and both were down to their side arms. Casey signaled to her what he believed their position to be and she agreed. Quickly, and with an ease that usually only comes from long term partnership, they formed a basic plan.

As Casey reloaded, Sarah leaned out and fired three of her eight precious shots at the dark head across the room. It was nothing more than cover fire, her gun lacking the power to do any real damage at that range. Casey looked to her and nodded. He leaned out and fired and she began crawling across the debris covered floor. As she rounded her third corner, a foot kicked out, knocking the small pistol from her hand. She grabbed the foot and thrust upward with the heel of her other hand, striking him in the groin. He fell backward and she rolled away, scrabbling for her pistol in the scattered pieces of broken merchandise. Her fingers wrapped around the grip and she whipped around just as the agent started to draw on her from a kneeling position. She fired two shots, hitting him in the lower stomach and hip, below his vest.

"Walker!" Casey's gruff voice rang out across the room and she leapt cautiously to her feet, staying low, as she looked for the threat.

The second agent was on the move and headed her way. She took cover as he caught sight of her and fired. The bullets impacted a stack of 'Cheezy Snackz' by her left shoulder and the plastic containers exploded, raining cheese balls down on her head.

"Hey, moron!" Casey shouted and fired. Casey's shot impacted the fulcrum agent in the upper chest, knocking him back but otherwise ineffective against his vest. The assailant's shots hit Casey in the lower left side, tearing easily through the fabric of his dark suit, and he went down. The Fulcrum agent smiled then spun quickly, his eyes wide, to find Sarah pointing her gun in his face. The .32 caliber bullet pierced his skull, right between his eyebrows, and he dropped to the floor.

Sarah watched for a moment, making sure both agents were down before flicking the safety and shoving the pistol in her pocket. She darted across the room, dodging broken plasma televisions and shattered game consoles, and dropped to her knees by John Casey. The much bigger agent was clutching his side, applying pressure and growling into a phone.

"Damn it, I've given you my clearance I.D, enough of this red tape, I need an under cover clean up team at the Burbank Buy More and I need the immediate area cordoned off, stat!"

"And a medical team," Sarah inserted and he glared at her. She spared him only a brief, spare smile as she shot to her feet and ran for the back of the store.

"And a medical unit." Even his sigh of resignation was more like a grunt than anything else, "Agent down." Snapping the phone shut, he reached down and looked at the empty floor beside him. "Hell. She took my gun."

xXx

He tried to remain quiet and control his breathing as he listened for the sound of footsteps.

The other man, much heavier on his feet and growling with anger, flew up the ramp and into the bay, his gun drawn and ready. He swept the room with his eyes. "Chuck," he called, the hoarse voice almost singing the single syllable. "There's no point in hiding, Chuck. I will find you."

Chuck squeezed his eye closed as he listened to Mauser's voice pass the cage and move toward the doors that would lead out into the hallway. He was holding his body so tight that he began to quiver and to his overly alert senses the rustle of his shirt against the cardboard sounded like the drag of a chair across an empty room. He clenched his teeth and tried to make himself still.

"I've got a team of men on the way, Chuck. We'll take this place apart. Piece. By. Piece." He chuckled and the sound was raspy and cold. "Come out now and it will go easier for you." There was a stretch of quiet as Mauser paused at the door listening.

Chuck listened too and noticed for the first time that the gunfire from inside the store had ceased. He heard the squeak of the door opening and closing and chanced taking a look. Seeing the room clear, he dove out of the box and scrambled on hands and knees across the cage floor before stumbling to his feet. Before he could reach the exit, he heard the sound of Mauser's voice calling out to him and he looked around, spinning frantically as he tried to find a new place to hide. Just as the door began to glide inward, he ducked into an empty space within a pile of inventory stacked in the corner of the room. The space was cramped and he curled back as far as he could, hoping the shadows would hide him.

"Enough of this, Chuck," Mauser hissed. "Those two agents… I suppose you're thinking they'll come and save you. Well, you hear that lack of gunfire? They're dead and there's no one left to help you. Give it up."

Chuck bit back a whimper as a face filled his thoughts. Bright blue eyes, that sweet smile with the slightly uneven teeth. If only he had been able to trust her from the start. Sarah, she'd said her name was Sarah this time — she can't be dead, nononono…

From his new hiding place beneath a 62" plasma television, he could see a large portion of the bay unhindered and he watched as Mauser stalked into the storage cage. The older man swept his black pistol from side to side with slow precision, checking beneath the table and stacked inventory. He kicked over the box that had served as Chuck's former hiding place and growled in frustration as it tipped over, empty. When he turned, Chuck could clearly see the squared, forward set jaw clench in determination. Mauser's cold eyes swept the room and Chuck held his breath, biting his lip to keep in the pathetic mewling sound that tried to escape.

Fear and panic writhed violently inside his chest as he watched Mauser begin a systematic search in the far corner. Eventually, he would be found. There was nowhere to go, nowhere else for him to hide and no one to help him. He found himself wishing he'd listened to Captain Awesome, taken self-defense, drank more of those foul tasting health shakes, gone for a damn run every once in a while… Something, anything that would have made him less powerless, useless.

A movement from behind one of the shelving units caught his eye and he turned toward it at the same time Mauser did. A red light danced across several boxes stacked against the wall and then Sarah appeared, leading with a dark pistol. Mauser struck out at her before a sound of warning could even escape Chuck's lungs. He heard the clatter of a gun hitting the floor, but the flurry of movements was almost too quick for him to track.

Sarah grabbed Mauser by the arm and slammed his wrist against the corner of the shelf, rattling its contents and sending the Fulcrum agent's gun flying. Mauser growled in anger and took a swing and she blocked while simultaneously striking his face. After another onslaught of moves Chuck couldn't decipher, Mauser managed to grab a handful of her hair, holding her in place as he punched her twice in the face and once in the stomach.

Chuck cried out as he heard the impact and watched as Sarah stumbled backward. She regained her balance quickly and advanced on Mauser with a cry of fury as she pummeled him with blows to the face and torso that had Mauser grunting in pain even as he blocked and returned with equal skill. Chuck was in awe of the speed with which they moved. Striking and blocking almost simultaneously. He could feel his nails digging into his palms as he squeezed his fists in anxiety —there was so much going on he couldn't keep track. It was like watching a Bourne movie, only this wasn't a movie and the stakes were very real. He winced, hissing through his teeth as Sarah took another hard blow.

Mauser jabbed her twice in the face, knocking her back a couple of steps, and then kicked her hard in the stomach. She slammed backward into the wall, stunned, and Mauser was on her like a jackal on its prey, wrapping his meaty hands around her throat. She kicked out at him uselessly, her blue eyes wide with panic as she clawed at his hands. Mauser leaned into her, pressing his body against hers and pinning her to the wall as his hands began to squeeze harder.

Blood was pounding in Chuck's ears as he watched her punch and slap impotently against the man's arms, her body writhing in his grasp. She clutched at her jeans pocket and a small pistol clattered uselessly to the ground. Without allowing himself a second thought, Chuck scrambled from his hiding place and grabbed the first thing within his reach. He ran across the room with a loud cry, and swung his impromptu weapon with all his strength, striking Mauser across the back of the head. The tripod broke apart on impact, diffusing the force of the blow. Still, Mauser stumbled sideways, releasing Sarah and she slid limply to the floor. The Fulcrum agent brought a hand to his head, where Chuck's attack had left a gash in the skin behind his ear. His fingers came back covered in blood and he looked up at Chuck with a menacing grin.

Chuck's eyes went wide, the piece of broken camera equipment still in his hands. He threw the useless metal rod at the man's head and ran but Mauser was faster. He darted forward, seized Chuck by the upper arm and used his momentum to swing him across the space. Chuck's back slammed into the side of the cage the metal digging into his shoulder blades. The spring in the chain-link bounced him forward and he fell onto his hands and knees.

Mauser laughed as he watched Chuck struggle to his feet, the nerd holding up his hands to ward off another attack. The moment Chuck regained his feet Mauser lunged forward and struck him hard in the center of the chest. The blow forced the air from his lungs and for a moment it felt like his heart had stopped beating. He stumbled backward, gasping for breath, and Mouser pursued, back-fisting him across the face. He felt the sharp, intense sting of pain and a bright, flash of light before the side of his face went numb. He tasted blood. For a moment, everything went dark and he struggled to stay upright. Then Mauser hit him again and he went down.

Dizzy and disoriented, his vision blurred, Chuck watched Mauser kneel down and lean over him with a sneer. The older man wrapped a hand around Chuck's neck and applied pressure to the side of his windpipe with a thumb.

"Where is the Intersect, Chuck?" he asked, his voice coolly polite in contrast to his actions. "Give it to me now, and this can all be over. I will be gone and your friends and family will be safe."

Chuck pressed his lips together, breathing hard through his nose, his eyes intent upon Mauser's.

"If I have to kill you _now_ , Chuck, I'll just search your body. Then I'll search her body," he tossed his head back toward Sarah still slumped on the floor. "After that I'll take apart your sister's apartment… maybe even your sister. Hmm?"

Chuck's face contorted with pain that had nothing to do with the pressure on his throat. A desperate, voiceless breath escaped as he looked up into those cold eyes, and flecks of blood spotted his lower lip and chin. He reached down and fumbled in his pocket. Keys clattered to the floor as his fingers once again found the smooth shell of the decoy USB drive.

"It's here," he croaked, Mauser's thumb making it difficult to talk. He held it up for the man to see, his hand surprisingly steady. "It's right here."

Mauser smiled and snatched it up, shoving it into his pocket. "Thank you, Chuck. Now, about that other thing Roberts was keeping." He leaned in close. "Do you know what it is?"

Chuck stared back, panic eating him alive from the inside out. His stomach turned as he realized this was it. He was out of tricks and out of hope. He only had one choice if he was really going to keep his family safe from this man and the people he worked for. No matter what, he wasn't going to let these bastards have the information in his head. Even if it meant that he was going to die.

"We looked everywhere," he said, using the panic and desperation he felt to add weight to his words. "I don't know what it is and we couldn't find it… please…"

"Well then, I guess I don't need you anymore. Good bye, Chuck," he said softly as he wrapped his other hand around Chuck's neck and started to squeeze.

Chuck grabbed his wrists and tried to pull but there was no give, no release from the crushing pressure. His lungs started to burn as they tried, uselessly, to pull in air. He pushed at Mauser's shoulders, his legs kicking impotently. As his vision started to go dark around the edges, his hands scrabbled at the hard floor. His fingertips brushed something cool and metallic and it clinked at his touch. He grabbed at the object almost reflexively, his fingers closing over a small, cylindrical piece. It wasn't cold, but smooth and soft, familiar, and he squeezed it hard in his fist. His mouth opened, futilely gasping for air. The world went dark and he brought his fist up forcefully against Mauser's neck, burying Winona to the hilt in the space just below the man's squared off jaw.

Mauser yanked himself back from Chuck, his eyes wide with shock. His hands flew to his own throat, one yanking the small screwdriver out and tossing it to the floor, the other clamping over the wound in an attempt to stem the bleeding. Chuck coughed and gasped for breath, rolling sideways and curling into himself against the hard, cold floor.

Mauser fell back as blood pulsed from between his fingers and dripped from his lower lip. His hand brushed the handle of the pistol he'd knocked from Sarah's hand and his fingers closed over the grip. He lifted it, his hand shaking ever so slightly, and aimed. Chuck looked up, just in time to see that eerie, red light pointed between his eyes. Gunfire split the air and Chuck squeezed his eyes shut, expecting death. It didn't come, and he opened them again as Mauser's body slumped to the ground at his feet to reveal Sarah on her knees behind him, his own gun smoking in her hand.

She dropped the gun and scrambled across the floor to Chuck, grabbing him, nearly in tears. "Chuck! Chuck are you alright?" She grabbed his face, turning him toward her and looking into his eyes, stroking his hair.

He reached up and cupped her face, his thumb stroking her chin. "I'm okay," he said hoarsely, though he felt far from okay. "You?" She huffed out a breath of relief, smiling weakly before she pulled his face to hers for a soft kiss. "Ow," he said before pulling her back for another. He let his head fall to the floor with a 'thud' and looked up at her. "So… Sarah?"

She smiled, pushing the curls from his forehead. "Yeah, Sarah Walker. That's me."

The corner of his mouth quirked up in spite of his split lip. "And is there a Mr. Walker?"

She let her forehead fall to his chest and her shoulders trembled with silent laughter as she shook her head, her hands fisted in his shirt. "No, Chuck," she said when she looked up. "There is definitely no Mr. Walker."

At the sound of sirens outside, she shot to her feet. She looked around a moment, shoving her hair behind her ears and taking a deep breath. She looked down and held her hand out to him. "C'mon, Chuck. We need to go. Now."

He struggled to his feet, feeling dizzy, and he felt her hands grip his forearms to help steady him. When he could see her clearly again he frowned. "Sarah…"

"Chuck, please," she asked, looking at him with the same sincerity she'd had in her eyes the night before, when she said she wasn't going to resist him any longer. "Trust me. One more time."

He stared into her eyes, searching them for truth, but knowing already what his answer would be. He nodded.

"Okay."


	15. Chapter 15

 

Even in the wee hours of the morning, the streets of L.A. County were not empty, but the traffic was sparse enough that Sarah was able to dart the Porsche in and out of the lanes with ease, even pushing reckless levels of speed. Chuck watched her silently from the passenger seat. The streetlights overhead flashed by, lighting up their faces for brief moments then plunging them into darkness again.

"There's something I need to tell you," Chuck said finally, and she gave him a quick look before returning her gaze to the road. "It's going to sound crazy but… I guess I'm asking you to trust _me_ this time…"

She smiled a little and took her hand off the shifter long enough to give his hand a squeeze.

"The Intersect isn't actually on that USB drive, it's —" he took a deep breath and looked at his hands in his lap, "it's in my head, my brain. I got this email from…"

"I know." Her voice was quiet in the small space but it might as well have been a shout. He whipped his head up to look at her again.

"What?"

"I knew the moment Lizzie showed me the email from Bryce Larkin."

"Bryce…"

"Bryce is a spy, we worked together at the CIA, but he went rogue, stole the Intersect and blew up the facility. I… stopped him… but not before he sent the Intersect to some unknown location. I traced it to California and assumed it was somewhere Jill could retrieve it. But when I got here, Jill was already dead and her apartment was empty."

"And you came looking for me," he said. She nodded. "So, Bryce is Agent Anderson? Is he still a threat? Is that why we needed to hurry away?"

"No. No, Bryce is no longer a threat."

"How do you know?"

"Because I shot him."

"You shot him? Bryce is dead?"

"No, Bryce is in critical but stable condition at a top secret, CIA detention hospital."

Chuck's eye widened. She'd said that so matter-of-factly. "Oh." He looked at his hands again then returned his gaze to her face. "Why did we need to rush away, and what about Barth-Casey, was he killed or —"

"We're here," Sarah said, interrupting him and he turned to take in their destination.

Lights were dim in the gray, nondescript building as Sarah whipped her Porsche into the underground parking garage. Chuck looked around intently, trying to take in the details. The adrenaline was starting to fade from his bloodstream and in its wake it left weariness and throbbing pain. Once they had parked, Sarah reached over and took his hand again, giving it a firm squeeze before releasing him. She reached into the backseat and came back with a baseball cap.

"Here, put this on and keep it pulled low," she said softly.

"Why?"

"It's very important that people see as little of you as possible," she replied in almost a whisper. "To keep you safe."

"Okay."

Though he could feel nervous energy coming off her in waves, she waited patiently for him to exit the car and make his way around the bumper to where she stood. The corners of her lips were turned downward and her blue eyes were intense as she watched him. He held his hand out to her and she took it, her entire body relaxing as they made contact.

They didn't speak as they hurried to the elevator and Sarah pulled out a key card, sliding it into the door before pressing a series of numbers. When they stepped inside and the elevator began to ascend, she leaned against the stainless steel wall, but didn't release his hand. They rode in silence.

The doors opened onto a sparse, but elegantly decorated hall, and Chuck looked down to see a seal embedded in the floor. 'Central Intelligence Agency,' curved across the top in bold letters. He looked back up, wide eyed to see her watching him. She squeezed his hand again and pulled him along after her. The clack of her boots seemed deafening in the dim hallway and Chuck took a deep breath, trying to keep a lid on the apprehension and anxiety that threatened to turn his knees into goo.

"Hello, Agent Walker," a tall, broad shouldered man said as they approached a set of metal detectors. His hand was firmly on the handle of his gun as he watched Sarah, his countenance not that of a friendly co-worker. Once she showed her ID and ran her card through the scanner, he smiled. She quickly and deftly disarmed herself, releasing Chuck's hand only long enough to do so. He watched as she filled a bin with three pistols, several knives and Chuck's blood soaked set of keys. "And who is your visitor?" the guard asked, looking at Chuck carefully. Chuck ducked his head.

"His name is Scooby," Sarah said sharply. "And you _never saw him_."

The man reacted as if she'd slapped him. His head came up and he stared straight ahead. "Yes, Ma'am."

Chuck swallowed as he stepped through the detectors but no alarms sounded. Sarah tugged once again on his hand and he followed her quickly down a succession of hallways. Chuck couldn't keep track of the turns after a while and realized, a little panicked, that he would never find his way out again on his own.

Eventually they reached a simple, wooden door with no name on the brass plate. Sarah slid her card through the scanner, the lock disengaged with a click and she pulled him inside. The office was completely empty except for a large desk and a dusty silk plant in the corner. There were no windows. She closed the door behind them and leaned against it with a sigh.

"Sarah…"

"Wait, Chuck, listen. Please?" she said, stepping forward and holding up her hands toward him. "The entire force of the United States Government is going to come raining down on us any moment and there are some things I need you to know before that happens."

He blinked at the intensity of her voice and the haunted look that flitted over her face. "Yeah, Sarah, tell me… anything."

She relaxed a little, a small smile caressing her full lips. She reached forward and took his hands. "I need you to know that I didn't lie to you about Jenny," she began. "I couldn't… I couldn't lie to you again. I really was Jenny, once upon a time. I used to be that girl. Only, once my father was arrested, instead of taking over the family business, I was recruited to the CIA. I just need you to know that. I…" she bit her lip and then leaned in, pulling his arms around her waist and pressing her head against his chest. She said something muffled and he frowned, one of his hands sliding up her back, rubbing circles in what he hoped was a soothing gesture.

"What did you say?" he asked gently. She looked up and this time when she smiled it was wide and brilliant.

"I love you, too," she said as if they were the three words that would end hunger and bring about world peace.

Chuck looked at her, stunned, before a smile as big as hers split his face. "Yeah?" he asked, and she nodded. He grabbed her and pulled her close, capturing her mouth in a fervent kiss. One of her hands fisted in his shirt, the other pulled on his tie, keeping him close and she kissed him back with equal passion. When the need for air demanded they separate, he slid his fingers into her hair and tipped her face up to look at him.

"Please tell me your name really is Sarah," he said with a soft laugh. "I don't think I can handle another one."

She bit her lip and he looked at her with disbelief. "You're kidding!"

"Actually… it's Sam. Samantha Lisa Carter."

Chuck opened his mouth, closed it and then opened it again. "Wait, your name is Sam Carter?" he asked, his voice shooting up in complete surprise.

His reaction was mostly lost on Sarah and she nodded. "Yes, but I haven't been Sam for a very long time. Sarah is who I am. Sarah is the woman who fell in love with you, and Sarah is the name I'll put on the marriage license."

"Okay… wait… the what? The what license?" Chuck asked unsteadily, certain he'd misheard. But even as one part of his mind balked at the idea, another part seemed to hum with a Cheshire Cat-like purr and his arms tightened around her.

Sarah had pulled back, opening her mouth to answer when the door burst open and John Casey stormed inside. He was big and angry and he seemed to take up all the space. Chuck stepped farther back into the room until his butt hit the desk.

"Listen up CIA, the NSA will not be cut out of this, so don't even try to pull any of your crap."

Sarah had spun around in an instant, a smooth mask of indifference slipping easily in place over her features. "I have no idea what you mean."

"Right," Casey said snidely. "I have orders to take the asset into custody and deliver him to a secured facility immediately."

"He has already been taken into custody, Major, and this facility is secure." Her words were cold and her eyes narrowed as she glared up at him. Chuck looked back and forth between them like a spectator at a tennis match.

"What do you mean, 'secure facility?'" Chuck asked, turning his attention to Casey.

"It doesn't matter, Chuck, he won't be taking you anywhere."

"The hell I won't!" the NSA agent said, leaning into her space, his features twisted into a fierce frown. "Just because you've got your girly feelings all in a twist over the asset, don't think you have any say in what happens to him. You are beyond compromised and once your boss and mine find out about it, you'll be off this detail faster than you can drop your panties."

If possible, Sarah's eyes got even narrower. "I wouldn't be so sure about that, Major. You and I are the only two people who know who Chuck is and what's in his head. Every person who is read into this only increases the danger to Chuck — and the _Intersect_. I don't think our superiors are going to want to do that."

"You can't be trusted to be the asset's handler," Casey spat.

"It doesn't matter," she said folding her arms and leaning back against the desk beside Chuck. She bumped her shoulder gently against his. "I'm already more than just his handler. I'm his _wife_."

Chuck's head whipped around to look at her. She was dead serious, smiling back at Casey with smug satisfaction. He turned back and went with it, smiling somewhat awkwardly at the other man.

"What!?" Casey demanded, enraged.

"You heard me. And that status gives me, and Chuck, certain _rights._ "

Casey shook his head, an aggressive laugh escaping his lips. "I'll show you rights…"

Chuck's entire body instinctively tensed to step protectively in front of her, but of course Sarah could take care of herself. She was faster too, and Casey stilled as she shot forward a step and pressed a wicked looking, black knife blade to his throat. Chuck blinked in surprise and wondered where the hell the thing had come from. Casey growled and gave her a look that promised retribution. Sarah simply tipped her head to the side and gave him a business like smile.

"Ceramic blade?" Casey asked, and there was a hint of something like respect in his voice.

"Grivory, don't leave home without it," she responded, that cool smile still in place.

Casey grunted and took a step back, as Sarah held her ground, the knife blade held firmly just below where his left ear had been.

"Major Casey, you've been injured and I'm pretty sure you haven't been cleared by the medics." She glanced down at his feet and Chuck followed her gaze to see several dark spots forming on the pale beige carpet. "In fact, you're bleeding on my floor."

Casey answered with another growling sound in the back of his throat.

"You need to get back to the Buy More, let the medics finish with you, and oversee the cleanup. Chuck," she said, her voice firm, "will stay here with me until the briefing at 0900 tomorrow." She lowered the sharply serrated blade, satisfied to have his attention.

"You'd better be here, Walker," Casey said, pressing his hand to his side and moving toward the door. "The NSA doesn't take kindly to being kept out of its own business."

"We will be here, Casey. We have no intention of cutting out the NSA." She glanced sideways at Chuck and gave him a little smile. "Right?"

"Right!" Chuck affirmed and then turned back to Casey, holding his hands up placatingly. "I know this information is important and that you guys will need to access it somehow. I'm going to work with you guys until we can figure out how to get it out of my head and back into your computer."

"As if you have a choice," Casey grunted and Chuck tensed his jaw angrily, like hell he didn't have a choice, but then the NSA agent was gone. The door closed behind him, and Sarah relaxed back against the desk with a sigh.

"That could've gone better."

"We really have to work with that guy?" Chuck asked.

"I'm afraid so," Sarah said. She chewed her lip a moment. "I don't know a lot about him, and what I do know… well, I know he's not Fulcrum and that's about the best we can hope for in these circumstances."

Chuck examined her profile, his eyes glancing over the soft curve of her cheek and the length of her neck. "And… what about that… other… thing?" Sarah turned her head quickly and looked at him, and a little smile played across her lips. " _Wife?_ " he asked, eyes wide.

"Oh, yeah, _that…_ " she gave a little shrug of her shoulders, "I lied." Then she turned toward him, and her fingers began toying with the hem of his white dress shirt. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes and all Chuck could think about was kissing her. "I guess you'll have to make an honest woman out of me."

Chuck blinked as her words registered. Did she just…? Did he…? He looked into her eyes, her face now so sweetly familiar to him, and felt the same intense pulse of desire along with the settled sense of belonging that he had felt with her since the moment they'd met. It was crazy, he knew that. He'd only known her for a week and it hadn't exactly been under the best of circumstances, but then he'd known Jill for seven years and look how that had turned out.

When he seemed to take too long to answer, her face fell and she looked at him uncertainly. "Unless… you don't…"

He smiled at her, the corner of his mouth quirking up on one side. "How fast do you think that little car of yours can get to Vegas?"

Her worry fell away and she grabbed his hand as a bright smile lit up her face. "Let's find out!" she said, and he laughed as Sarah pulled him from the room behind her.

**THE END**

* * *

_So that's it. That is the end of my tale. What happens next is up to your imagination. :) I'd like to give some credit to the creators of Chuck for giving me these characters I love so much and to the creators of Charade, a great movie I hope you will all go watch now_ _,_ _if you haven't already seen it. After this I have the thing memorized._

_I want to be clear how much I used that movie. I rewrote it nearly scene for scene. Every twist, except the ones involving Pierre and Jill keeping Chuck, belong to that movie. Just credit where credit is due. Without it, this whole thing would've floundered around the middle. I have trouble with middles._

_Now, you know how in movies these days they like to surprise you with little scenes hidden inside the credits? Well:_

* * *

xXx

The thick soles of her serviceable shoes made little sound on the linoleum as she strode down the long hallway. They were sturdy, supportive and ugly as hell. Every morning she lamented their atrocious appearance but every evening, as she slipped them from her sore and swollen feet, she loved them more than her one and only pair of Louboutins.

The next room on her rotation was guarded by two very large men. It wasn't an unusual sight and she took it in stride, showing them her ID and standing still as the bigger one used a device to scan her body. It was all part and parcel with working for the CIA. She waited for them to let her pass and nodded when the big fellow opened the door for her.

As she entered the room, she was greeted by the steady beep of machinery that said her patient was still stable. She looked down at the chart in her hand, scanning over the details. Whoever this guy was, he was a big deal, because he didn't have a listed name. Not so much as a John Doe. Instead, he was just a number. She looked over the readouts and displays, taking note of any inconsistencies.

It wasn't the first time she'd dealt with this particular situation. She'd looked after several number-named prisoners in her time, but none of them had been as easy on the eyes as this guy. She leaned in to take a long look at his handsome face, his chiseled features obscured slightly by a week's worth of stubble.

As if on cue, every machine in the place began beeping in complete madness, and the patient's hand shot out and seized her around the throat. She tried, uselessly, to gasp for breath as she clasped her hands around his wrist and looked down into the most intense blue eyes she had ever seen.

His voice was hoarse from lack of use and the breathing tube that had only been removed that morning. "Where is Chuck Bartowski?"

 

* * *

_I finished writing Charade in an ER examining room while my daughter and I waited for her overnight room. I brought the laptop down for her to use but the I.V. in her hand made it difficult. So my laptop sat there, Charade four lines from being finished, (four lines I had been carrying around since I first started writing it), but I had other things to worry about. She looked up at me and said, "Mom, you should finish your story!" So, I did. When she asked me what was going to happen next_ _,_ _I told her I didn't know, but_ _if_ _it was a movie I'd stick a little scene in the credits that went something like this:_

* * *

 

xXx

Michael Tucker, a.k.a. Big Mike, made his way across the Buy More parking lot. In one hand he held the newspaper close to his face, his eyes fully focused on what he was reading. In the other hand, he balanced a mug full of hot coffee and a large donut - pink frosted, with sprinkles. He grunted low in his throat, disgusted with the score of his favorite team's recent game. He was so caught up in what he was reading, that he didn't notice much else that was going on around him, so it wasn't until he felt the crunch of glass beneath his shoe that he pulled his gaze from the sports section.

He looked down at his feet with a frown to find the ground sprinkled with tiny pieces of glass that sparkled in the light from the early morning sun. His head snapped up and his jaw dropped as he took in the sight before him. His coffee cup fell to the ground and shattered. His poor donut slipped from his grasp, bouncing on the asphalt and rolling away in a mad break for freedom.

The front doors of his beloved store were shattered, glass everywhere, and inside… inside it was like a bomb had gone off. Not one TV was left intact. Every display was destroyed, cheese balls littered nearly every inch of floor, and off to one side, a Roomba was vacuuming in little circles, turning each time it ran into a piece of larger debris. Strange men and women were wandering around with different tools and instruments.

"Ooo, that… that is not our fault."

Lester Patel and Jeff Barnes came up to stand on either side of the manager. One smelled like fish, the other like exhaust fumes and stale beer. Lester's hand came to rest on Big Mike's shoulder and he shook his head, making a 'tsk tsk' sound.

"Wow," Jeff said. "I haven't seen this level of destruction since the last time my mom came home to find her boyfriend in bed with my Aunt Darena."

"Really, your aunt slept with your mom's boyfriend?" Lester asked peeking around Mike to look at his companion. "That's cold."

"Well, he _was_ her husband."

Big Mike turned first to Jeff and then to Lester, and a low growl began to sound in his throat. Lester jerked his hand off his boss's shoulder and moved away.

Looking around quickly, Lester pointed over to the other side of the parking lot. "Oh, Jeff, hey isn't that… isn't that your Aunt Darena now? Hey, Darena, wait up!" Lester called nervously.

"Oh, maybe she's got some beer," Jeff commented. Smiling he began to amble off in the direction Lester had pointed.

"We, uh, we gotta go, Big Mike, really, really sorry about the store." Lester made a face and then took off after Jeff.

Big Mike turned back to the scene of destruction and the anger on his face melted into sadness as he began to sob.

 

* * *

_My daughter is fine BTW. No permanent damage. Later, when she found out I was posting the story_ _,_ _she pretty much insisted I put_ _that scene_ _in. I wasn't going to but, well, I love her, so you have her to blame for all of this..._

_Thank yous! I want to say a special thanks to_ _**Indigogold** _ _for stepping forward and being someone I could share my work with. You were a friend in the Chuck world when I needed one, thank you so much for that._

_I want you all to know that I appreciate every review, even the little ones, the things that let me know I'm not just putting this out into the universe for no reason. But I want to give special thanks to those of you who did more. I am blessed and humbled by getting to hear your thoughts because I'm not always the best at reviews myself. Not only were they rewarding, they also let me know how I did in crafting the story._

_I have had so much fun sharing this story with you guys. I thought I was crazy but I'm glad it has been received like it has, because it was so much fun to write, even when it was hard and I wanted to give up._

_Now, has anyone ever seen the movie Innerspace? In the ending, Tuck and Lydia are off on their honeymoon, Tuck has the chips on his cufflinks, The Cowboy is their driver and the two shrunken, evil scientists are hiding in their luggage! Jack yanks off his tie and heads off to save the day. But Innerspace has no sequel and neither does Charade, and these epilogues are a bit like that ending. ;-)_

* * *

xXx

Morgan tugged the black, Buy More jacket more snugly across his chest and finally zipped up the front as the temperature began to drop below comfortable for the California native. He sighed, shoved his hands in his pockets and continued to shuffle along, kicking rocks alongside the stretch of highway he was walking. He knew, of course, that Chuck hadn't abandoned him. He wasn't sure where Chuck had headed on his bike but it was reasonable that he hadn't been able to come right back. After all, the guy was dealing with some pretty heavy stuff. Morgan hadn't quite understood it all but he'd seen those creeps hanging around Chuck's hotel room and they were scary.

He took another deep breath and exhaled sadly. He was just about to pull out his phone and let his mom know he was going to be late when a sleek, silver Astin Martin pulled up beside him. He stopped, waving away the dust and bent to peer inside as the window rolled down. His eyes stared at the beautiful redhead in the driver seat.

"Hey, you need a ride?" she asked and Morgan pulled back. He looked to his left and then to his right before turning to her and gesturing toward himself with his thumb. He watched in stunned silence as she bit her lip and nodded.

"Heck yeah, sure!" Morgan said before quickly climbing inside. He shut the door and smoothed his hand over the leather seat. "Nice ride."

"Thank you," she said and slammed the car into gear. She spun the tires in the dirt of the roadside before squealing onto the black top, and Morgan yelped and tried to find something to hold onto. "What's your name, Traveler?"

"Uh," he squeaked before clearing his throat. "Mor-Morgan."

"Nice name."

The car wove in and out of traffic, taking dangerous chances with oncoming traffic, and through it all the redhead was smiling. Meanwhile, Morgan was pale as a ghost, both hands gripping the door with white knuckles.

"So, Martin," she asked as she zipped the car around a tight corner and accelerated onto the freeway. "Tell me about yourself."

Morgan gave her a look at the name, but let it go. If a gorgeous woman like that wanted him to be a Martin, he'd be a Martin! "Oh, um well, I work at the Buy More. Just sales staff right now, but I'm working my way up to assistant manager," he lied. "I like video games and um... actually my home is, um, that way." He pointed behind them indicating the opposite direction.

"Well, I never said anything about taking you home," she said playfully. She reached between her legs, just up under her short skirt, and pulled out the most enormous pistol Morgan had ever seen in his life. His eyes flew open wide as she pointed it at him.

"What!? Not again!" He turned and tried yanking on the door but it wouldn't budge. He banged both hands against the passenger side window a few times before pressing his face against the glass as the car continued to speed away. "CHUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"

 

* * *

_Again, thank you, thank you, thank you_ _**all** _ _so much for reading! Now that we are finished, and there are no spoilers left, I'll try to reply to your reviews and you can feel free to chat me up about the story. :)_

_**Angus MacNab.** _ _Are there even words? Thank you so much for allowing me to use your little request to go over a bit from Lost Years to completely hijack you as a beta. You are so much fun to talk Chuck with as well as 'shop' about writing and such and everything else. I'm just really glad I got to know you. Without you, I'm pretty sure the intimidation of the fight and action scenes would have stalled this story out long ago._ _I know you kind of wanted the wedding in Vegas, but I hope this will do._

* * *

xXx

Sarah looked down at the glint of gold on her left hand. The sun coming in through the hotel room windows was reflecting off of the band around her finger. Her wedding band. She was married.

She'd really gone off the deep end this time.

The agent in her made excuses: Chuck saw things, knew things about her, understood her in a way that no one else did. Safer to keep him close. But she knew that's all they were, _excuses_ – or, as a very wise person once told her, a lie in the skin of a truth. The truth was, (the real truth), she needed him.

"As soon as I get the chance, I'm going to buy you a real one of those, I promise." His voice pulled her attention away from the band of gold and she looked up at the man standing just inside her bathroom door. Her _husband_. She felt something swell and shift within her chest and she smiled. That feeling - whatever it was, she didn't have a name for it - should've scared the hell out of her, but it didn't. Instead it reminded her of having a belly full of really good wine and not a care in the world to worry about.

Which of course wasn't true. She had a lot to worry about: her job, the fact that she was, in a way, holding the United States Government's most valuable asset for ransom, how to be married, how to share herself with someone, how she could ever earn her husband's trust back… Chuck himself.

He was brushing his teeth now, and there was a bit of foam at the corner of his mouth when he turned to smile at her. It should have been disgusting but instead she found it completely adorable.

If she was smart, if she had any sense of self-preservation at all, she would declare herself compromised and run like hell in the other direction. But she couldn't do that. Chuck was far too valuable to her, and not because of the Intersect but because he was Chuck. As crazy as it was, she didn't want to live the rest of her life without him. She couldn't. If just last week anyone had told her such a thing were possible, she would've laughed in their face — and then probably punched them. Now, here she was, _married_.

The future was precarious at best. Fulcrum would still want him, and the information he had. The government would want to bunker him, use him… or worse. But she would do whatever she could to protect him. She had no delusions that she wasn't being selfish about the whole thing. She needed Chuck and she didn't intend to lose him. If they bunkered him, they'd better make it a double bed. If they used him, she'd be right at his side for every step, and if they tried to… well, she sure as _hell_ wasn't going to let _that_ happen.

Whatever the future held, they would face it together. She just prayed that someday, he could trust her again.

"I can't believe you had this fancy hotel all this time," Chuck said as he turned and leaned on the doorframe leading into the bathroom. His curly hair was damp about his head and he had a towel slug low on his hips. Her eyes roamed his lean and toned form. He wasn't especially muscular but there was some definition that drew her gaze. She bit her lip as her eyes roamed over his chest and stomach to the place where the dark hair disappeared beneath the towel. Heat and need curled low in her belly and she sat up in the huge bed, allowing the white sheet to fall to her waist.

Chuck's smile fell away, and his eyes darkened as they looked her over. A small, naughty smile played over his face as he too pulled his lower lip between his teeth. When his gaze returned to hers, he moaned. "Sarah, it's eight o'clock."

The need must be showing on her face. She grinned like a hungry cat as she crawled out of bed and stalked toward him, naked except for her ring. "So?"

"We have to be there by nine, right?"

"It only takes twenty minutes to get there from here." She ran her hands over his chest and up to caress the back of his neck. She pulled him in for a deep, needy kiss and he moaned low in the back of his throat as he returned it.

"I just don't want you to get into any more trouble than I know you're already going to be," he said, pulling back just far enough that he could look into her eyes.

She pushed up on her toes and kissed his chin. "I can get anywhere in the greater Los Angeles area in twenty minutes," she murmured against his throat, and her tongue darted out to lick him. His hands on her hips flexed instinctively.

He grinned down at her, his eyes sparkling with humor. "My wife is a speed demon." The way he said 'wife' made her tremble.

"Well, my _husband_ is neglecting his duties." The look on his face was perfect. His crooked little smile somehow equal parts self-assured and disbelieving at the same time. Damn him and those smiles. He had a million of them and every one of them made her heart trip. The first time she'd seen him smile in that coffee shop she'd been a goner. She just hadn't known it yet.

"And what, may I ask, is at the top of this 'Honey Do' list you've already made for me?"

She smiled, her hands sliding down his torso, and his grin broadened when her fingers grasped the towel clinging precariously to his hips. She gave it a tug and it fell to the floor with a 'flump.'"

"That would be me."


End file.
